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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220787">To Be Seen, To Be Known</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepfriend/pseuds/sheepfriend'>sheepfriend</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We All Have Our Demons [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dream tries to hard to be cool and mysterious, Fluff, Getting Together, Graphic depictions of violence against endermen, M/M, Monster Gore, Perfectionism, Polyamory, Pyromaniac!Sapnap, Realistic Minecraft, Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria, Time Skips, if you're not cool w that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:01:34</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>37,882</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28220787</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sheepfriend/pseuds/sheepfriend</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the last year, George has gotten to know Dream by his perfection, by his persistence. He concedes to himself that Dream can just do anything. He pours his whole self into it for however long it takes and it just comes together.</p>
<p>Until it doesn't.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>We All Have Our Demons [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2005951</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>165</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Lightning Bugs</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I said, "okay boys I'll be back from the store in two hours with some groceries," and I came back 3 years later with a new divorce record, new Gucci sunglasses, and an ostrich like in the iCarly meme. But this fic is <i>not</i> just a smoothie. This fic got so out of hand and grew into something much bigger than I originally intended and that's okay. It's gonna be a 3 chapter monster that explores the entire process of Dream opening up to George, aka "How can sheep project in three different flavors onto boys who play minecraft?"</p>
<p>And since we seem to have forgotten our manners, disclaimer: Don't shove slash content on creators, even ones who are comfortable with it being made. Don't be weird! They're people, too, and this fic is written about their Minecraft personas.</p>
<p>And as always, big thanks to my beta reader and partner in crime, @CrappyRavioli , this fic wouldn't be possible without them &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Summer hit the plains hard just a couple days ago, convincing George that spring is over and the year is climbing unstoppably to its apex. So much has changed for him recently, most of all, the fact that he up and left his lifelong home to aimlessly adventure the continent with two near-strangers. It was a… spur of the moment decision, to say the least, and sometimes he misses always having a real bed to sleep in— or at least a bunk— but so far its been anything but regrettable.</p>
<p>He’s been travelling with the two adventurers for around three weeks now and he’s slowly learning their habits and quirks. He has to admit, there are a lot to pick up on. He’s already discovered that Dream barely sleeps— he’s always awake late and up early— while Sapnap loves nothing more than to snore well into the morning. Dream’s skill with a sword is frightening, he likes to sing off-key while he walks, and he laughs at his own jokes. Sapnap always has to light the campfire, he collects smooth river stones, and he tells every story like it’s an epic and a comedy. They’ve grown on him significantly and despite his quiet tendencies, George is more comfortable with them than he would have ever anticipated. He maintains the expectation that something could go wrong at any moment, but with every day, the more he learns about them, the more distant that heavy thought becomes.</p>
<p>George is quickly learning the ways of surviving in the wilderness and on the road. He’s <i>been</i> capable enough with a crossbow and it’s his one saving grace; everything else, he’s still learning. He worries only a bit that Dream and Sapnap will just decide one day that he’s a bad investment and leave him in the middle of the night. That’s why it’s a comfort when all three of them learn something new at the same time— finally, he’s on the same level as the others and he has the chance to build a skill <i>with them.</i></p>
<p>This new thing happens to be how to acquire a curious trophy item— a quest that began with a chance meeting.</p>
<p>Over the crest of a gentle hill in the plains comes a figure in the distance, alone, but followed by a long-necked beast, a sort that George has never seen before. In fact, he can’t tell if they’re human or not as they shimmer in his vision, edges blurred from the heat or perhaps a supernatural nature.</p>
<p>“Dream—” he hisses under his breath and points to the figure.</p>
<p>The tallest keeps his gaze straight ahead but nods. He’s seen them too. Neither he nor Sapnap seems fazed as the stranger angles towards them. George’s hands clench on his crossbow, which he unthinkingly unstrapped from his back just after noticing the figure. Now they’re closer and the unnatural wave of their silhouette is absent, leading George to realize it was only the heat. Too bad he’s just as wary of normal humans as he is any monster or sorcerer. His grip on the crossbow doesn’t falter.</p>
<p>The stranger is moving decidedly in their direction and as they come close enough for them to make out the shadows cast over their face by a thin hood, Dream casually lays his hand on the handle of his dagger and addresses them.</p>
<p>“Interesting seeing someone else out here.” Even showing some wariness, he continues to walk towards the stranger. They wear clothes dissimilar to the ones from this region, the ones that George is familiar with. These robes are thin and vibrant, a rich blue that catches George’s eye against the dull yellowy grass. The creature they’re pulling along on a lead has a similarly patterned cloth draped over its back and is covered in curly fur. It reminds him of a horse and a sheep simultaneously but seems nonthreatening enough. </p>
<p>“It’s always interesting to see others out in the middle of nowhere, yes.” The voice that replies is sharp and accented differently than his own or that of Sapnap and Dream.</p>
<p>“Are you trading anything?” Sapnap asks.</p>
<p>“What would make you think that?” They ask archly. </p>
<p>Sapnap stammers for a beat before saying, “...the llama?”</p>
<p>At that, they laugh. It’s thin, reedy, but not unkind. “Don’t make assumptions, boy. But I am trading. Is there anything you’re interested in?”</p>
<p><i>Llama?</i> Is that what that animal is called? Once again, George is struck by how much more equipped Dream and Sapnap are for the wild world than he is. He’s sucked into his thoughts, observing the shiny and colorful things they show to Dream and the big teeth on the llama while the others talk. His hands are still wrapped around his crossbow but they no longer tightly hover over the trigger.</p>
<p>Suddenly, Sapnap cuts in. “Do you know a lot about treasures or weird artifacts?”</p>
<p>“I’ve seen plenty in my time,” they respond simply.</p>
<p>“Do you know what this is?” Sapnap’s hands scrabble eagerly and he pulls a dark bluish orb from his bag. It’s about the same size as an apple and George doesn’t think he’s ever seen it or anything of its kind before. </p>
<p>The trader gasps beneath their scarf. “Why, how’d you get your hands on an ender pearl, child?”</p>
<p>“Ender pearl…” he breathes reverentially back, staring back into its oily luster and leaving Dream to explain.</p>
<p>“We found it behind a shelf in an abandoned village a while back. We haven’t run into anyone who’s known what it is. A cleric in Gryscen said it comes from endermen, but every time we kill any, they just vanish. He didn’t have any information about how anyone would get one.” George hasn’t ever seen or heard of this object before but it’s not something he expects Dream and Sapnap to have told him about. It’s not like they brought him on for his immense knowledge on possibly magical ingredients. </p>
<p>“Well, I’ll gladly buy it off of you.”</p>
<p>Dream pretends to contemplate the trader’s words, humming and biting his lip beneath his mask, then cattishly supplies, “I’ll hand it over for nothing if you tell me how to get more.”</p>
<p>“That seems a very advantageous deal, indeed, considering I don’t possess the strength to harvest any myself. Perhaps we’ll cross paths again. I agree to the terms.” Their speech rings as though each word has been carefully picked despite the mundanity of their sentences.</p>
<p>“Tell us, then.” The blond insists.</p>
<p>“Hand over the pearl first, I’d say. You young men are obviously armed to the teeth and could hurt me badly, so I’d like a little insurance.” George nods inadvertently. They make a point.</p>
<p>Sanap begrudgingly hands over the pearl. It changes hands quickly, disappearing into the traveler’s bag as though it was never there. </p>
<p>“Alright. I’ll regale you with what I know of how to gather pearls from endermen. I was never the one to partake in such a task but a long time ago, I travelled with some companions who were handy at the feat.” Their features twist towards wistfulness like the flicker of a lantern, quickly reorienting to neutrality. “All endermen have a pearl in their chest. It’s not like a heart— they have those, too— but the pearl is located beneath the heart, buried a little deeper. Ordinarily, when one is killed, it vanishes, which is, I’m sure, where you’re caught. To ground it in this realm, its eyes must be covered at the time of death. As long as it can see and sense its location, it will be pulled back to the dimension from which it came upon dying. When it is disoriented and cannot see, it will lose that ability. The way we always thought of it, or how we assumed it worked… They must not be able to send their dying signal back home. Without that perfectly angled signal into the void, they’re abandoned and left to rot in a foreign dimension.”</p>
<p>The way the trader retells this story… It gives George chills. He isn’t sure he wants to kill an enderman in such a way. Dream, however, is clearly undeterred.</p>
<p>“That should be easy to get the hang of, then.” George can hear the grin under his mask.</p>
<p>“In theory. I can tell you know how to handle a blade, but don’t expect this to come easily. It’s at least a two-person job. And the catch is that if they are blinded for too long before being killed they can teleport randomly out of your grasp. You must time it perfectly and work in complete sync.” Their tone is final.</p>
<p>Dream’s posture speaks of determination. Of eagerness to try something new. George has seen him mow down monsters with the greatest grace; it must be an exciting challenge to try something so difficult and so rare when the acts that feel like climbing a mountain to others are as simple as walking for him. “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“It’s just some knowledge. If it’s in the wrong hands, fate will surely right the situation. I’ll be on my way, then. Pleasure trading with you.”</p>
<p>And like that, they wave coyly and step away, llama in tow.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Dream has been thrumming with energy since the sun began to set, insisting they set up camp a little early and then taking time to stretch and practice his forms. George has learned that while Dream is helpful— in fact, he’s indispensable— he often gets so caught up in his various personal endeavors and pet projects that Sapnap, and now George, are left to do much of the drudge work of travelling. Sometimes Sapnap ribs Dream about it and when he does, nine times out of ten, Dream will quickly scurry over and help even if he complains. But the youngest rarely bothers Dream, in actuality. He whines to George, <i>Dream is so lazy, Dream never helps me,</i> but his grievances never sound sincere. </p>
<p>Once, he even told George, “Don’t tell anyone, but I’m happy you’re here now ‘cause you can help me with the camp when Dream gets all focused on something.” His voice was tinged with fuzzy softness when he said it. Even as a newcomer to the group, he senses that most days, Sapnap is completely unbothered by the blond’s tendencies. Maybe he’s even fond of them.</p>
<p>So when the dark snuffs out the sunset and the plains turn dangerous, Dream is bouncing on his heels and scouring the horizon for endermen. Their camp has been set up, a fire in its heart to light the area and their two lanterns sitting on its outskirts. They’re going monster hunting, so they secure their armor and grab their weapons. </p>
<p>“Guys, look! There’s one over there.” Dream hisses. Their gazes follow his pointer finger and there, winnowy and tall is a dark silhouette. It walks in the way that endermen do, legs unbending like a horse’s, arms swinging, trailing behind the rest of its body.</p>
<p>“Dream. We have to make a plan,” Sapnap insists. “What’s the best way to cover its eyes?”</p>
<p>“Alright. We could try tackling it, since it’s so tall? If we can get its face into the ground then it should be easy,” the tall man supplies noncommittally. </p>
<p>Sapnap shrugs. “Worth a shot. Who’s going for the kill?”</p>
<p>“I think whichever one of us it makes sense to. You can just tell when the moment’s right, you know?” Dream suggests as though his raw confidence will just do the trick. George doubts it but decides it’s not his area of expertise to question him.</p>
<p>Sapnap shrugs. “Worth a try. George? Any suggestions?”</p>
<p>This whole planning session he had just been third-wheeling, expecting to leave the monster hunting to the real adventurers. It’s not like he’s killed many endermen at all in his time, considering they’re notoriously difficult to shoot and swordsmanship was never a skill of his. “I don’t have a better idea yet.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yet?” Dream teases. “I like that attitude, Georgie.” He then steps forward and looks over his shoulder at his companions. “Let’s go, then.” Despite the way his mask conceals his expression, George senses his devil-may-care grin on a blurry, imagined face. His confidence alone makes that fleeting vision a touch too handsome and he’s caught off guard by his own thoughts, left to trail behind the others.</p>
<p>George stays behind on the hunt, nervously handling his crossbow while his companions circle the monster, predators and prey. He’s out of his depth, but Dream and Sapnap are in their element. They’re scary; adventurers, <i>heroes,</i> tend to be. What the two lack in planning here they most certainly make up for in enthusiasm, the energy between them crackling like lightning, quick as a flash when Dream lunges, beastly sword raised. He shoulder-checks the enderman’s midsection and smothers its face with his arm as it tumbles. This does momentarily stop it from disapparating, but Dream isn’t in control of the exchange for long. </p>
<p>George doesn’t know what’s happening until the blond cries out in pain.</p>
<p>If you had never been around them before, you’d think that endermen have no self-preservation instinct. You can get bafflingly close to them and as long as you don’t touch or look at them, they’ll let you. Standing near them for too long, they tend to walk away, almost as though they’re shy. But ultimately, the endermen mind their own business unless provoked, could even be called docile.</p>
<p>But the moment you look into one’s sunken violet eyes– even just for a moment– it will turn ferocious, the thing of nightmares. This also happens, of course, when they are attacked, which is what Dream just did. Being on the wrong side of an enderman is said to be hell.</p>
<p>Three long, bony fingers digging into your flesh in a vice grip, the thing’s whole body vibrating in rage.</p>
<p>A wide jaw, unhinged like a snake’s, able to crush a man’s whole arm between blunt but powerful uneven teeth.</p>
<p>Worst of all, they say, is the possibility of being ripped apart by their magic if they hold onto you too tight and choose to teleport.</p>
<p>The horror stories crash through the halls of George’s mind, threatening to drown him. He’s frozen, processing it too slow, fear seeming to coagulate his blood as it flows. The enderman releases Dream’s arm and he rolls off of it onto the grass harshly, clutching his non-dominant arm. Despite the dark and George’s colorblindness, he can see blood seeping into the sleeve of his friend’s shirt. At this point, it has teleported out of Dream’s immediate range, but is sure to reappear to strike at any second.</p>
<p>Despite the fact that arrows do nothing to an enderman on high alert, George finally comes to his senses, surfacing from the surging tide of his worry to level his weapon in front of him and keep his eyes peeled for the monster to reappear. As he does this, he runs towards Dream, who is quickly getting up from the grass and adjusting his grip on the diamond longsword. Before either of the two of them make any notable moves, however, it comes back to this plane with a brief but awful noise, continuing to roar. The youngest of the three gets to it first, coming up from behind and hacking its spindly haunch twice with his blade before it retreats again.</p>
<p>“When that thing gets back, it’s <i>so gone!</i>” He swears in the interim, iron sword now stained with black blood.</p>
<p>...And Sapnap isn’t lying. Dream would probably be able to fend for himself even with a fresh bite on his arm, but his best friend is boiling with some manic blend of vengeance and exhilaration. The moment it reappears, all shaking edges and rail-thin limbs, Sapnap’s sword is ripping into the space between its ribs, black, viscous liquid oozing around the wound. The enderman stumbles forward to attack but falters, giving up to wheeze its death and vanish. It leaves behind only a sparse cloud of purple particles that float to the grass like snow and fade to imperceptibility like embers.</p>
<p>The air is heavy around them, all but silent from disappointment, if it weren’t for Sapnap’s heavy breathing. For a moment, they wait, lost in the plum shimmer at their feet, before they click back into action. </p>
<p>“Dream? Are you okay?” George asks.</p>
<p>He idiotically flexes the fingers of his left hand and winces. “I’ve felt worse before. But maybe I get this wrapped up before I do anything else.”</p>
<p>“You’re planning to keep hunting after this?” He finds his own voice incredulous, feels his brown eyes widen.</p>
<p>“Well, yeah, obviously! I’m never gonna get it right if I give up so soon!” His tone is fiery, cocky, every part the Dream that George has grown to know.</p>
<p>As they trek back to the campsite, the discussion shifts.</p>
<p>Sapnap presses his lips together in a thin line. “We aren’t giving up but that wasn’t careful enough.” </p>
<p>Anxiety shoots up George’s spine at the gathering tension in the air. Fights put him on edge, but he’s helpless to stop this one. No, he just feels his nerves in his shoulders, like he’s bracing for impact. Silence is good. Being quiet means hopefully the fight can wash right over him, like he isn’t there, and leave him unscathed.</p>
<p>“I don’t really care. I’ll be fine. I wish you hadn’t killed it like that, we could have salvaged it.” If what the trader said was true, Dream is probably wrong. The moment they get aggressive, it becomes nearly impossible to kill them without teleporting because they can easily uncover their eyes.</p>
<p>“Yeah, right. I’m the only reason <i>you’re</i> salvaged.”</p>
<p>“Oh, come on,” the blond scoffs.</p>
<p>A tense huff. “I mean it, Dream! Just let me worry about you for once!” There’s clear pain in his voice, plaintive and raw and maybe Sapnap’s hill here is worth dying on, to him. Not that he’s saying anything, but the hill in question seems to be Dream’s life.  </p>
<p>“You worry about me enough for the both of us.” It’s clear that Dream is fighting back, being obstinate, acting sure of himself, being stubborn. He forces the scathing words to come out like a joke, but the laugh that follows is hollow. </p>
<p>Sapnap opens his mouth, obviously angry– and rightly so, George measures– but he finds it within himself to retort first. “It’s a team effort, Dream. The trader said one person can’t do it on their own.” He pleads silently with just his eyes to Sapnap, begging to just defuse the situation. Sapnap is right, but this is going to be a very long, very painful night if they don’t drop the issue.</p>
<p>To his benefit, Sap mumbles, “Yeah, what George said,” and crosses his arms tightly over his chest.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>After Dream’s wound is cleaned and bandaged, he insists they head back out. George is taking his time, though, scouring their assorted materials for anything that could be of use. Dream and Sapnap have already begun to drift away from the fire when his eyes alight on something that could work. They have some bread and apples stored inside a hefty burlap sack. The bag’s purpose has shifted over time, it seems, and if they’re willing to relocate the food inside, he’s willing to offer it a new job. </p>
<p>He jogs to catch up to the other two, who have their eyes locked on a lone dark, lanky figure ahead.</p>
<p>“Wait. I have an idea. We can try and put this over its head so it can’t see. Just, like, sneak up behind it and put it over its head.” When he says it, he worries it sounds dumb, but he knows it’s better than Dream sacrificing his arm again.</p>
<p>The two stop and look over their shoulders at George, holding out the burlap sack like a peace offering. He can see the gears turning in their heads, assessing the value of his contribution, and his skin burns under that pressure.</p>
<p>After a long moment of too-loud crickets chirping in the night, a slow grin splits Sapnap’s face. He looks up at Dream, whose expression is hidden but he nods contemplatively and reaches out his hand to take the bag. “That’s actually a great idea, George.”</p>
<p>Their attention, their approval, it makes him feel like a firefly, gently blinking to life, proclaiming his presence in the darkness. Subtly, briefly, he exists along with the stars, and it’s a feeling he wants to keep chasing. </p>
<p>So, with some arguing, they devise a new plan.</p>
<p>“But you’re taller,” Sapnap whines.</p>
<p>Dream is not without his pride. “But I’ll hit harder than you.”</p>
<p>“Don't start with me, big guy,” Sapnap grumbles.</p>
<p>Dream laughs but acquiesces, claiming it’s to give his hand a break from holding the sword anyways. George is still adrift in their current, pleasantly carried along and confused at the same time. He thinks that just watching this attempt might help him figure out how to contribute. It’s not like it occurred to him to try and bag the enderman; he’s the shortest of the three of them and he’s not known for his vertical leap, either.</p>
<p>Hanging back once again, the younger pair approach their target. They don’t hesitate; it’s unsurprising how well the two work together but impressive to George nonetheless. Dream doesn’t have to jump far to shimmy the burlap sack over the enderman’s skull and Sapnap strikes it in the middle with an invigorated grin painting his face. The wound isn’t exceptionally deep, but he gets in a second swing and all seems to be going to plan.</p>
<p>The monster still isn’t mortally wounded, though, and as the brunet is swinging back for another hit, the dark form disappears. Its wail still lingers in the air and the apple sack falls lightly, uselessly, to the grass.</p>
<p>“Shit!” Dream cries out and jumps backwards to stay out of the area of Sapnap’s swing as there is now no barrier between them. </p>
<p>“Fuck! Where’d it go?” Sapnap spins in a circle, sword clutched at a low angle. </p>
<p>“It got away because you didn’t hit it hard enough,” Dream sasses. “I told you so.”</p>
<p>George has been scanning the plains for the enderman to reappear since it first vanished, well aware it will come back for Sapnap. <i> “Excuse me,</i> but we still need to kill it, because it’s mad now,” he interrupts the spat.</p>
<p>Dream already holds his sword at the ready. When it does come back, its grating scream popping back at full volume, he finishes it in one clean strike. No one gets hurt, so it’s a win in George’s book, but he notices the disappointment in Dream’s shoulders and the frustration in the pinch of Sapnap’s lips after its corpse disappears in a cloud of ashy particles.</p>
<p>“We can’t be expected to get it right with so little practice,” he says, hoping to better the energy of the group. “Come on, there’s one all the way over there, see?”</p>
<p>This time, Sapnap agrees to bag while Dream strikes. Anxiety over being dispensable, about not contributing, begins to boil again in George’s stomach, but Dream seems to notice and says he’ll get his chance soon. So they set up. This time, they’re more careful. <i>No more gored arms, please.</i></p>
<p>In typical fashion, the enderman is unsuspecting, which is why Sapnap is able to creep ever closer to the enderman, keeping his gaze to the ground until the very last moment. That’s why Dream is on the other side of the creature, looking around its side to gauge Sapnap’s position but facing it down straight ahead. George watches it all in profile.</p>
<p>When the youngest gives the signal— a short, sharp whistle— Dream centers himself and charges forward, head down, down, down—</p>
<p>Simultaneously, Sapnap closes the gap between himself and the enderman in a flash. He has to jump to get the bag over its head but he does it with a deadly efficiency.</p>
<p>—The moment the bag is going over its horrible, bony black head, Dream’s eyes snap up. They never meet the deep, mournful, purple gaze of the beast because they’re covered just on time. George watches the lighting-strike motions in slow motion, so he must be thinking at a speed he didn’t know he was capable of.</p>
<p>Dream isn’t going to strike fast enough. It’s just going to be barely too late, too low, the enderman’s edges are fizzing in fear, it could jump, it would all be for nothing, he doesn’t want to see his friends face defeat, not now, not when it was almost so <i>perfect.</i></p>
<p>His hands move of their own accord. </p>
<p>Crossbow aimed perfectly at the bagged head.</p>
<p>Sapnap falls back to Earth like a maple seed— shaking but certain. The moment his hand is out of the way, George pulls the trigger.</p>
<p>His bolt arcs through the night and his aim is true. Only a heartbeat after the arrow embeds itself in the bag, in the enderman’s skull or eyesocket or ear or temple or <i>something</i>, Dream’s sword slices through its midsection. It’s not a clean cut, not all the way through; things like that are nearly impossible.</p>
<p>The shot rebalances the sequence. They’re perfectly in sync.</p>
<p>With it all, the enderman crumples to the ground, releasing a horrid, gurgling roar. It doesn’t vanish. </p>
<p>The three of them stand in awed silence for a sluggish strand of time, frozen. Dream’s hands grip his longsword, drooping to his left, just the way it was after his swing. George’s crossbow has been lowered only millimeters, finger still on the trigger. Sapnap has righted himself but his arms are still reaching out for balance.</p>
<p>When the moment breaks, it breaks like dawn: tender, hesitant, practically loving.</p>
<p>Dream speaks first. He looks at George and simply asks, “You <i>shot</i> it?” All he can do in reply is nod and step closer. At least Dream doesn’t look angry that he didn’t get to kill it all on his own. He’s so hard to read with that mask.</p>
<p>With sweaty hands, George stoops and places a hand on the enderman’s head to brace it. The other grasps the crossbow bolt sticking out of the bag and pulls hard. After a moment, it pops out and they all ignore the squelch that comes with it. He looks down at the body and thinks for a minute.</p>
<p>“I think you should… keep the bag on. Until we get the pearl.” No one disagrees with the suggestion. The spectre of the melancholy tale told by the traveler hangs like a cold fog around them in the night. They ignore the implications, though, forging ahead because there is no other option. To acknowledge it is to reframe their actions in an irreversible way, a way that none of them are ready to bear.</p>
<p>So with no hesitation, Dream hovers his axe a foot above the monster’s chest. It’s a thin chest, like his own but with such a wispy bone structure that it more resembles that of a hungry child. Then, Dream winds up his swing, arcing the axe back and then down— definitively— onto its sternum. Bone cracks. Dark purple blood— can it be called blood?— oozes from the crushed flesh, mingling with the blood already spilled from its stomach. Dream grunts and presses the sharp edge in deeper with a sickening squelch. Then, he angles the blade so it is horizontal and pries up the ribs. More mortifying crunches. George thinks he wants to look away but he can’t. It’s a horror show. It’s slow and mesmerizing. It’s something so rare that it’s awe-inspiring.</p>
<p>Now, perhaps they are some of the only proper enderman hunters on the planet.</p>
<p>It’s hard to tell.</p>
<p>In the torchlight, then, its chest cavity is bared. A mangled heart, similar to the hearts of some animals he’s killed before rests amongst the dark-colored flesh and beneath it… Beneath it is something of a different shade. It reflects the light where blood has not splashed onto it: dark blue. They all breathe in the silence for a moment, recognizing that they’ve done it. With no squeamish delegation of responsibility, Dream kneels on one side of the corpse and reaches inside. George wishes he wasn’t wearing that mask. He wants to know what the man is thinking and feeling. Is he at least a little repulsed at the visceral deed? Is he thinking about that lonely signal, never sent, or maybe misfired blindly into the void? Is the blood covering his hand sickeningly warm? But he wears a mask. George can’t see his face, so he can’t know.</p>
<p>And he withdraws the pearl.</p>
<p>He looks down at the enderman at his feet as he stands slowly.</p>
<p>Then, the air changes. </p>
<p>Dream whoops into the night air, ecstatic. Sapnap joins him in the cheer. George can’t bring himself to that level of enthusiasm, but a timid smile takes control of his lips without his full consent. Even more shocking is when strong arms wrap around his shoulders and pull him into a tight hug, the angle of which almost pulls him fully onto his tiptoes.</p>
<p>“George! We did it! We actually got one!”</p>
<p>Dream’s hands on his back are warm and wet and it’s gross— the enderman blood seeps into his shirt but he can separate it from the story he heard earlier that day. He’s had blood on him before and this is just another successful monster hunt. This is his first monster hunt that’s felt like it warrants a hug from Dream, though. Maybe that’s where he’s getting all this confidence from.</p>
<p>His face is buried in Dream’s chest for a few seconds and when he stumbles out from the embrace he’s giggling, a rush of elation filling his veins like molten gold. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Sapnap grinning smugly, hand pushing his hair up above his bandana and shoulders shaking with laughter. The moment is a whirlwind, but he thinks he’ll remember it for a long time.</p>
<p>Dream gets carried away when he succeeds. That’s another thing George is learning about him. Winning is his drug of choice and the resulting high runs him like a lightning strike. In his elation, he hugged George so fiercely that he was pulled up, up so his tiptoes barely brushed the ground and momentarily, Dream was the only source of gravity on the plains. Now, though, he’s floating back to Earth, let down carefully by the taller man. When Dream re-centers himself, he’s drawn his bloody hands to George’s shoulders, still gripping them tightly, attention directed straight at him. There’s some kind of dark mesh under the mask that doesn’t let George look through the eye holes and see any of Dream’s features, but for once, it doesn’t intimidate him. Sure, this man just ripped open a monster carcass and reached inside to harvest one of its organs (if the pearl can even be called that), but he laughed and whooped like a giddy kid and scooped him into the tightest, happiest hug George has ever experienced, so his frightening skill seemed to slip away momentarily. He’s still looking down at George, though.</p>
<p>Finally, the blond’s silence breaks. “I can’t believe you did all that, George!”</p>
<p>“W-what? I didn’t even do anything!” he splutters.</p>
<p>“You did, it’s all thanks to you that we have <i>this,</i>” he says and gestures to the pearl that he hastily shoved under his bandolier. “You got the idea for the bag in the first place and then you shot the enderman. I’m pretty sure the bolt’s what killed it.” His tone begs no argument and George just nods, dumbfounded. He didn’t think the warmth in his chest could spread any further, but it’s in his skin, making him blush at the praise. It’s nice to be reassured that he could belong with two skilled adventurers like Dream and Sapnap.</p>
<p>He doesn’t notice who collects the bag to be used again, but they ride the high to gather more pearls. The plains are by no means crawling with endermen, but they pop up every so often as they keep moving. Each one that they find, they take turns honing their techniques. At first, they try the same thing again until Dream has perfected his timing and George isn’t needed in the equation; it’s a quick one-two of bag and stab. His blood runs cold at the prospect that he isn’t needed after all because the other two are so connected.</p>
<p>Sapnap gets tired of only ever being in charge of covering the endermen’s eyes quickly, though. At his protests, Dream seems to drag his feet, so George takes his opportunity like a drowning man breaking for air. It’s desperate and reckless and so unlike the well thought-out plans he’s accustomed to. “I could try it, Sapnap, so you can try killing it.”</p>
<p>The brunet practically glows with joy at the suggestion.</p>
<p>This new approach leaves Dream third-wheeling for a little while and when he gets bored, he starts to roam around looking for the next one to target. At first, George is bad at jumping high enough, so they work on luring an enderman to a spot where there’s a gentle hill behind it. By sneaking up from higher ground, he succeeds. Thanks only to Sapnap’s enthusiasm, he cleanly gouges the monster’s lungs, hurting it bad enough to get in a deadly second strike before it leaves. When they succeed this way, they celebrate again, dragging Dream, who watched it happen from the distance, into the little party.</p>
<p>So they work on things. They try different combinations until George’s legs ache and Sapnap’s shoulders heave when he raises his sword. At one point, they worked all three of them together, in a new way, going for the most efficient kill possible by having Sapnap and Dream attack it at the same time. That was particularly gratifying, as they seemed to be having fun, playing off of one another, and George knew he was indispensable from the process, in his own way. But they’re exhausted. </p>
<p>“Hey Dream?” Sapnap calls a little ways to the man, who’s wandering again. </p>
<p>Despite being off on his own little mission, clearly thinking hard, he turns quickly and gives them his full attention. “You need anything?”</p>
<p>“Not really. But we’re going to go to the camp. We’ve got so many already and I need my beauty rest.” Even projecting so much confidence, Sapnap’s voice wavers with tiredness. George looks up at the moon and notes that it’s well past midnight.</p>
<p>“Already?” he pleads.</p>
<p>“We can’t all be monster-hunting machines, Dream. Some people sleep!” George is amused, listening to their conversation play out. “Don’t stay out too late yourself and don’t get hurt, idiot,” he adds.</p>
<p>Dream nods and holds his arm up with a thumbs-up. It’s silly. One second, he’s off being mysterious and frightening and the next he’s making simple, pleasant gestures instead of just talking like a normal person. Then, he turns away once more and it’s like George is looking at a completely different person, every inch of his silhouette as intimidating as ever.</p>
<p>As they begin walking away, Sapnap mutters, “He’s going to stay out too late.”</p>
<p>After settling in into their bedrolls, George surveys the scene on the plains. A few sparse monsters, many of which they killed, meander over the ground. In the distance, Dream is still stalking endermen. It’s only been about fifteen minutes since he last tried to see what the man was up to, but it seems he’s changed the game completely in that time. It takes his breath away.<br/>He’s put his sword away, instead using just his large dagger and no shield. It’s hard to see from so far away, but George can tell that he’s coming at the enderman from an angle— mostly behind, but to the side enough that he can easily get to its face… Because the moment he’s close enough, he moves inhumanly fast. <i>Gods above, he must have made some kind of deal, no human should be able to do that.</i> He reaches up, slashes its eyes and within a heartbeat, cuts into its frail neck, deep enough to drop the monster to the dirt. George’s mind supplies the image that he can’t see, so similar to earlier. Except this time, Dream’s hand is pressed right to its gauzy, ashen skin, the ichor drips over his fingers as it burbles from the enderman’s throat— No, he doesn’t have the energy to conjure up gruesome visions right now. He saw so many endermen fall tonight, some to his own hand, that it doesn’t even matter now. He decides to focus for just a second on something else.</p>
<p>The fire flickers lazily a few feet away. It’s significantly cooler now than it was in the day, but it’s still warm enough that the campfire makes him sweat. Right now, though, he can ignore it in favor of the exhaustion weighing him down, making him feel cozy. Maybe there’s something there from his newfound sense of heightened belonging within the group, too. If there is, he’ll take the comfort at face value.</p>
<p>Sapnap is seated in the grass on the other side of the fire, knees up and arms resting loosely around them. He’s turned sideways to George, able to look at him if he wants. Instead, he’s looking out over the low hills, crescent moon hanging picturesque over the landscape. George knows he isn’t revelling in the beauty of the plains, of all the stars winking above. He’s watching a silhouette in the distance— Dream’s silhouette. He’s still savagely moving across the horizon, mowing down enderman after enderman. He fights like it’s a dance: a bloody, brutal, explosive dance. Ultimately, what’s most amazing is that he’s still working at this capacity after hours of combat and danger.</p>
<p>“He never stops, does he?” George hums.</p>
<p>Sapnap shrugs. “Rarely.”</p>
<p>“Does it… bother you?” He plays nervously with his own hands where they lie on his stomach.</p>
<p>Sapnap's laughs are often low chuckles, warm like a hearth. His next sentence is prefaced by one such sound. “Nope. I mean, I can be a whiny bitch and I like to rest more than Dream could stand, but I’m along for the ride and I accepted that a long time ago. It’s fun. Like, I don’t think I would ever have seen so many amazing, cool things all over the place without him. So I appreciate it. I let him take me out of my comfort zone.”</p>
<p>George doesn’t respond, but he lets the words sink into his bones, fuel for his internal contentment. A persistently hopeful little thought tugs at his consciousness that maybe he’s starting to see what Sapnap means. The person he was three weeks ago would never have been able to do what they did tonight even with all the other capable members of his village working together. It makes him feel confident, strong, and secure, all while flying high. He realizes what needs to be said, though, despite the prospect of being so sincere making his skin crawl.</p>
<p>“Sapnap.”</p>
<p>“Yeah?” He looks over at George, no longer watching Dream. His gaze is curious and intense. Having someone’s attention so fully directed at him makes the older tense, but he’s started his line and the truth ought to be said. If only to get it over with. </p>
<p>“You’re just as good an adventurer as him. Sure, he’s, uh, passionate and like, a freak of nature, but you’ve taught me a lot. Dream isn’t the one talking me through your weird dynamic and stuff.” It’s not as raw as the original sentiment was supposed to be, swirling through his chest like lightning that he was unable to bottle, but the way he said it was good enough. </p>
<p>The younger smiles and looks almost bashful but only for a moment before straightening and pointing a finger, accusatory. “What <i>weird dynamic</i>!?”</p>
<p>George just laughs at his incredulity, full-bodied, so long that they have no choice but to let the conversation slip through their fingers. He stops talking to Sapnap, stops worrying about Dream, and just watches the stars until he drifts off.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <i> “Finally back, are we?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“You’re tired. Somebody’s got to keep watch for creepers or skeletons and I figured I should help.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“And you’re gonna be able to do that?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“You aren’t.” A pause. “Come on, sleepy boy, trust me. You know I’m awful at sleeping anyways.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>A sigh. “Fine. Thank you, Dream.”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George wakes slowly, feeling hot and sticky, to the feeble light of dawn and heavy hands shaking his shoulder.</p>
<p>“George. Geooorgieeeee, wake up. And stay quiet. You’ve got to see this,” Sapnap snickers. The younger man is leaning over him, devious, boyish grin lighting up his face.</p>
<p>“What?” George croaks softly. Sapnap stands and points across the campsite to a slumped-over lump leaning heavily on an overstuffed red pack— Dream. “He’s sleeping. So what?”</p>
<p>Sapnap nudges him with his boot and hisses, “Just get up!” Grumbling, George does, wordlessly shuffling after Sapnap to see what he thinks is so important. As they close in, he realizes.</p>
<p>Dream’s clothes are stained black all over and his mask is askew, baring a freckled cheekbone and his mouth, parted slightly in slumber. This is… really, the first time George has looked squarely at Dream, asleep. He sleeps so little and on the rare occasions when he did sleep while George kept watch, it felt wrong to stare. He kept that mask on, anyway; what was there to stare at? How could George know that those unknown eyes weren’t watching him back? So it’s the first time he’s seen any of Dream’s face and it feels wrong. But that’s not what Sapnap woke him for. No, Dream obviously didn’t mean to fall asleep in this position, cradling an ender pearl in hands that have been drawn up to his chest, gently resting beneath his chin. There’s some stubble there, barely visible in the nascent light of day. </p>
<p>“Man, I knew he was excited about the pearls and all but he’s holding it like it’s his <i>baby!</i> Sapnap whisper-cackles. George’s head is spinning, overwhelmed by this glimpse of something other than the methodically controlled image of Dream that he’s seen up to now. The pit of his stomach chills, wondering if he would be mad, knowing George saw him like this. He isn’t scared of Dream anymore, not inherently, but he isn’t sure that such a level of infallible trust exists between them yet, either. “Dude,” Sapnap pipes up. “Obviously you don’t have a taste for making fun of Dream yet, but you’ll learn.” He slaps his own chest with a flat palm and adds, “You’ll be learning from the best. I know he can be kind of intense, but I’ve known him forever. He’s not going to like, lash out and hurt you. Hell, if anything like that happened over a prank or some teasing, I’d swoop in to keep you safe.” He pauses, the devious cogs spinning in his mind clearly visible. “Sapnap, your knight in shining armor,” he laughs proudly and even has the audacity to <i>wink</i> at George. “I’m sure he’ll wake up soon.” Then, like nothing ever happened, the youngest walks off to poke at the fire’s coals like he always does before they put it out for the day. As the sun is pulled higher into the sky, George busies himself with putting his pack back together and eating some bread. Probably only thirty minutes pass between his jarring wake up call and when Dream shuffles and groans quietly, signalling he’s just woken up with an inevitable crick in his neck.</p>
<p>“Hey, sleepyhead,” Sapnap teases.</p>
<p>“Ow. ‘Morning.” George can’t help but trace the other’s movements as he sits up and looks down into his palms, where the lone pearl still rests, delicate as a king’s crown on a bed of velvet. Even Dream looks surprised to find it there. After a moment of soft bewilderment, he leans over to the red pack sitting next to him and tries to stuff it inside, but when he opens it, about three others spill out onto the grass.</p>
<p>“Would you like me to help you carry some of those?” George giggles.</p>
<p>“Huh?” The moment the pearl rolls easily onto the grass, Dream’s first priority seems to be righting his mask, back to where it normally rests, safely covering all but his jaw.</p>
<p>George steps closer. “The pearls. I have more room in my pack now than you do.”</p>
<p>“Oh.” The mask angles down to look at the pearls on the ground and in his hands then back up at George and down again. “Sure, that’d be great.”</p>
<p>With that, George stoops down to pick some up, balancing the three that rolled into the grass and wildflowers in his arms and accepting the fourth that Dream hands him— the one that he had been sleeping with, warm from being held. While he’s carrying them back to the other side of the fire pit to pack away, the pearl atop the stack goes tumbling out of his arms and he fumbles to catch it with one hand. The other is occupied in clutching the three more to his shirt. In slow motion, George watches it bounce onto the ground only a couple feet away, fortunately not breaking.</p>
<p>Then, the strangest feeling overtakes him. All of his body is gripped by a wave of energy, feeling both like an electrocution and the way his leg feels if he sits on it for too long— like his body is no longer his but instead of heaviness his senses are replaced by something light, fizzing. He thinks he would collapse to the ground, that’s what one does when their body no longer works. But then his vision narrows, blackness consuming him for only the briefest second before he’s dumped fully back into his body. He’s dazed, head spinning, quickly coming into awareness of a soreness in his limbs that hadn’t been there before. <i>What just happened</i>?</p>
<p>“George!” He isn’t sure who called his name, but both of the other men rush over to his side, clearly concerned.</p>
<p>All he can think, watching Sapnap disbelievingly inspect him and his armful of ender pearls, is that he’s on the ground now. But not where he would be if he just collapsed. No, he’s a few feet away. Did something knock him back? He never felt any physical blow to his body, just that thrumming aura and sudden whiplash of unconsciousness. Checking himself now, there seems not to be any one spot of pain, no wounds. His head already feels completely normal again. “What… What just? Did I get hit with something?”</p>
<p>“No. You just… Vanished. And reappeared on the ground a few feet away,” the youngest supplies, clearly baffled.</p>
<p>“It felt weird.” The buzzing in his bones has already subsided.</p>
<p>“Are you okay? Are you able to get up?”</p>
<p>George tries to do so and is able, although Sapnap doesn’t give him the option to try without the other’s hands pressing on his torso to keep him vertical. “My muscles are a little sore but I definitely can. Nothing feels broken. I don’t even know what happened.” At that, the youngest drops his hands from George’s back and arm, bringing them back into his own personal space.</p>
<p>For the first time since rushing over, Dream speaks. “You dropped a pearl. It bounced onto the ground and landed right where you are. And look, it’s gone. You only have three now.” When he stood up after being— what, <i>teleported?</i>— he had set the remaining ones on the ground, but Dream is right. Only three remain and the fourth he was carrying is nowhere to be found. “I think it can teleport you.”</p>
<p>“What!? How did we never know this before?” Sapnap bellows. “I’ve been carrying one around for almost a year and I always just assumed you’d crush it into dust for potions or that it was just something that rich ladies like ‘cause they’re pretty! This whole time!”</p>
<p>Dream laughs softly. “Yeah. I’m going to try something.” He stoops down and picks up one of the pearls, then steps back until he’s ten feet or so from George and Sapnap. Suddenly, he’s tossing it with a playful call of, “Catch, Sapnap!”</p>
<p>Panicking, Sapnap instinctively does just that. His eyes widen but he doesn’t let go, the pearl held in both hands in front of his chest. “Wha-?” As he’s speaking, George watches what the other two must have just seen him do: Dream vanishes and is gone for a barely perceptible beat in time. Then, he reappears in Sapnap’s arms, toppling him over.</p>
<p>“What the fuck, Dream!”</p>
<p>But the blond is laughing so hard. It’s mirthful, boisterous against the quiet morning. His full-body laugh isn’t rare, but it’s distinct every time George hears it. As it morphs into a familiar wheeze, Sapnap grumbles and pushes Dream off of him. “You’re such an idiot, dude. That <i>hurt</i>. What if you got hurt too?”</p>
<p>“George didn’t get hurt,” he says petulantly between giggles.</p>
<p>At being mentioned, he gasps and defends his integrity. “I did! Sort of. And I agree with Sapnap, that was impulsive.”</p>
<p>“Now, George, I didn’t say impulsive meant bad. Plenty of impulsive decisions lead to the greatest adventures in life,” Sapnap backtracks.</p>
<p>“Ha! So you admit it was genius, Sappy,” Dream pushes. He then stands and brushes himself off, ridding his clothes of the little wet plant seeds that cling there with morning dew. Then he offers his hand to Sapnap, who’s still pouting on the ground. Grumbling all the way, he accepts it. When the youngest is standing again, hand still grasped in Dream’s, the taller leans down to Sapnap’s ear and says something too soft for George to hear. Whatever it is, Sapnap looks resolutely at the ground, expression less angry than embarrassed. He fishes his hand back from the older’s grasp and changes the direction of the conversation.</p>
<p>“What does it feel like?”</p>
<p>“Being teleported?” George asks. Sapnap nods firmly in reply.</p>
<p>“Weird. Like, uh… I felt like my whole body went numb, but I was full of energy. It was—” he shuts his mouth and pushes his lips to the side as he searches for the right word. “Tingly. And kind of scary, like, my vision blacked and all of a sudden I was in a different place.”</p>
<p>Dream nods sagely and hums in assent. “Obviously I wasn’t scared ‘cause I’m better than George, but yeah.”</p>
<p>The oldest’s face twists in offense. “You are not better than me! How are you better than me? You literally knew it was going to happen to you and I got completely blindsided!” he protests, despite knowing that Dream is kind of maybe definitely better than him— at some things, at least. </p>
<p>Dream laughs again. It seems to be a laughing morning.</p>
<p>“Let me try it then,” Sapnap says in a tone that George thinks is ‘trying to sound brave.’</p>
<p>“Are you sure?” George asks at the same time as Dream stoops down to pick up one of the pearls and mirthfully supplies, “Knock yourself out.”</p>
<p>Without thinking, George shoots Dream a chiding glare, arms crossed over his chest. Unsurprisingly, it does nothing to deter his actions. He passes Sapnap a pearl and steps back.</p>
<p>The youngest of the group looks down at the curious sphere in his palm, then up at his companions and sets his expression determinedly. He hurries a ridiculous distance back and turns facing the camp again. With no preamble, he takes a running start and throws the pearl. It soars through the air, obviously floating on a gentler force than Sapnap was capable of throwing it with. For a second, there’s nothing. Sapnap is still moving when he disappears. The pearl seems to reflect the sun in a barely there flash before it goes up in dark, shimmering particles. </p>
<p>It’s strange, to watch something come into being from nothing before your eyes, but it’s hard to worry about that when that something— that <i>someone</i>— materializes within twenty feet of you, just above the ground, tumbling forward on running feet.</p>
<p>Sapnap is carrying so much ungraceful, unbalanced momentum and it all happens quite fast. He lands, unable to stop but slowing down in a couple shaky steps before barrelling, arms out, into George, who catches him but falls over nonetheless.</p>
<p>He spends who knows how long dazed and under the heavy weight of the other man’s body, feeling wet, weedy grasses and wildflowers tickle his ears and neck while he tries to cope with having the wind knocked out of him. It’s probably only a couple seconds, but he knows he definitely missed a few beats of Dream outright cackling from the sidelines of the scene before he registered the sound.</p>
<p>The tallest is still doubled over, wheezing pathetically, when Sapnap rolls off of George and groans, “I’m good, thanks for asking.”</p>
<p>“I hate both of you,” George adds and decides that for all of their sakes, they should hit the road as soon as possible.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When George wakes the next day, Dream is already up, humming quietly. How, George has no clue, considering Dream was definitely up late into the night. Looking at him, he’s battered and his clothes are dirty, but his body language is vibrant and bouncy as he cooks pork over a freshly-stoked fire. He stares up at the trees around them before engaging; they made it out of the plains and into a vibrant green forest in the evening. George feels his tongue heavy in his mouth; he’s still new to this social arrangement and his mind spins, bereft of words with which to start his day. Upon hearing George turn over in his bedroll, however, Dream turns to offer a bright greeting.</p>
<p>“Morning, George!” He isn’t wearing his hood and his hair, which has to be just as dirty as George’s is right now, flops dashingly over his forehead and George’s mind grasps a thread of how is he so effortless?</p>
<p>“Hi, Dream.” His voice is low and his first words of the day nearly catch on his dry tongue. It’s weird, still, to talk to someone in a mask. To wake up to someone in a mask and not feel the cold wriggle of fear down his throat at not knowing that person on the same level that you are known. He’s still acclimating to being friends with someone like Dream. </p>
<p>George takes a moment to scan Dream’s tall figure more thoroughly after he turns back to the sizzling food in an attempt to see how last night’s endeavors went. The rolled up sleeves of his shirt are still stained black— maybe purple— from the blood of the many endermen who stood between Dream and perfecting the art of teleportation. They were really just in the wrong place at the wrong time, George thinks. The knees of his trousers are dirtier than George remembers and there are some new rips in the fabric. It looks like he’s washed the oily residue that the pearls leave behind off his hands before cooking at least, which is comforting considering he’s making breakfast for all of them.</p>
<p>Finally, George sits up, leaning on one arm to support himself and asks, “Do you need any help?”</p>
<p>“No, no worries, man. Maybe I’ll ask you to get Sapnap up soon if the smell of cooking meat doesn’t wake him first. He’s like a dog.” Dream laughs probably too hard at his comment, a quiet wheeze. It’s not a joke, it’s just a harmless dig at the younger man’s best friend, but George can’t help but snicker because it’s true and because Dream has no right to crack himself up at such a bad excuse for comedy. </p>
<p>“Alright.” With that, George stands up, muscles slightly. He stretches too, causing his back to pop.</p>
<p>He takes the few steps needed to approach Sapnap’s bedroll, which definitely has him buried in it somewhere. In the summer morning, it isn’t muggy, so he doesn’t judge him for being completely covered up; regardless, he’s learned that it’s just how the youngest adventurer likes to sleep: with his head covered up. There’s a part of him that thinks it’s cute, even. He crouches next to the sleeping lump of fabric and reaches out tentatively. “Uh… Sapnap? Sapnap, get up,” he calls, shaking what is probably his shoulder. The body inside the bedroll shifts with a groan.</p>
<p>“Dream?” an outright gravelly voice croaks from within.</p>
<p>Dream laughs from his spot standing over the fire and the brunet is left to say, “No, it’s George.”</p>
<p>This detail does not seem to change Sapnap’s choices, because he just grumbles, a drawn-out, “George…”</p>
<p>“Nope. Get up. Dream cooked pork. We have to head towards the city today.” He tries to keep his tone firm. </p>
<p>Slowly, absolutely messy brown hair pokes out of the bedroll, not currently held back with the usual white bandana. The man’s dark eyes squint at the light coming through the birch boughs and he blearily stares at George. “Are you sure I have to?”</p>
<p>“Dream said so. And so did I, so… Two against one.”</p>
<p>Completely unwillingly, Sapnap sits up and shimmies out of his nest and quietly makes his way over to the fire. He drops to sit on the moss without any grace and reaches out for Dream to hand him breakfast. Without a word passing between them, the exchange goes through, leaving Sapnap with a metal bowl holding a chunk of seared meat. Eating on the road is nowhere near as glamorous as cooking in an actual home, George has found, but he’s getting used to the simple meals. </p>
<p>“Good morning, Dream,” he finally says after taking a couple slow bites. “Did you stay up late again?”</p>
<p>“You could call it that,” he says. “I caught a couple winks at dawn.”</p>
<p>“You’re going to crash soon, I know it. It’s been like, two weeks since you got a good sleep.”</p>
<p>Their conversation fades into the background of his thoughts and George feels less odd than he first did, a couple weeks ago, watching these two’s morning rituals. He’s even slowly finding his own place within it, but this is still something he feels like an interloper in. When Sapnap first wakes up, he talks slowly, deliberately, and sincerely to Dream. Dream always answers his questions about his night, asks if Sapnap had any interesting dreams, and as they wake up fully with the sun, they begin to joke and laugh and plan for the day. Somewhere after breakfast and during the conversation, Sapnap will take the time to organize his hair and tuck it away from his face with the bandana. To George, it feels like that’s the real indicator that the day has begun.</p>
<p>At some point, the oldest decides to tune back in with what they’re saying. By now, Sapnap is tying the bandana around his head. “Dream was messing with the ender pearls again. All night,” he contributes.</p>
<p>“I’ve pretty much perfected it… but there’s always more to build off of. Give me a couple more days and I’ll have figured out some good ways to combine teleporting with other stuff that’ll <i>really</i> give us an edge.” It’s evident in the blond’s tone that he’s proud but still hard on himself, like his expectations are always chasing him to some end that never comes. “I’ll just have to show you and Sapnap how it’s done once we clear up camp. I even pearled back to the top of a ravine after jumping down it last night.”</p>
<p>At that, George balks. “Dream! That’s incredibly stupid! It’s stupid to even be out alone at night, let alone flinging yourself into a ravine!” He isn’t proud of the way his voice pitches up at the end there and it lights a little flame in his cheeks.</p>
<p>“Calm down, George, there was a pool at the bottom, I made sure. Plus, I made it out whole; no harm, no foul.” The other man’s tone is still light, like nothing can weigh him down at this point.</p>
<p>Sapnap just grins lazily. “I mean, come on George, it is sick. You just don’t know what Dreamy is capable of yet. I’d only be mad at him if he was dead.”</p>
<p>“Aw, thanks, Sappy,” Dream coos and throws his arm over the Sapnap’s broad shoulder. “So! Considering that I’m very alive, I think that’s two against one,” he adds smugly, imitating what George said earlier.</p>
<p>George looks to Sapnap with pleading eyes, but the other man just shrugs, wrapped under Dream’s arm, completely cowed. “Oh my goodness. Listen, we can work out a time for it–” Dream cheers– “but do I need to remind you both that we’re trying to get through the city before the solstice festival starts, which is actually Dream’s idea?” </p>
<p>Sapnap frowns. “Why do you have to be so responsible?” he whines. I was hoping we could just convince Dream to stay in Clareis through the festival and we could let loose. It would be fun, we never actually enjoy life. It’s been literally forever since I’ve been to a good party.” </p>
<p>George decides to try and play his cards to maximize success. He doesn’t care either way, in the end, but it’s always him who tries to uphold the schedule that usually Dream lays out. “Okay, so… How about we still try to get in before the festivals so we can get a good place to stay without the steep solstice prices and consider staying for a couple days to make Sapnap happy.” Secretly, there’s a voice in his head acknowledging that George wants to see what it’s like, to attend a solstice festival in a huge city like Clareis and maybe to let loose for once in his life. Not that he would ever admit it. </p>
<p>Luckily, the blond doesn’t seem upset by the proposition. “I’ve got an idea. We can get going as soon as possible, head towards Clareis, and I’ll keep us moving that way while also getting to use more pearls.” The way he says it, it’s devilishly eager, but George has no reason to argue.</p>
<p>“Fine. Let’s get packing then.”</p>
<p>They clean up camp with practiced efficiency and begin trekking southeast through the forest. After a little while of normal travel, Dream locks his fingers together above his head and stretches, cracking his wrists in the process.</p>
<p>“Are you two ready, then?”</p>
<p>“For what? Your little show?” Sapnap asks. </p>
<p>Dream’s tone is like a trap. Get too close and something entirely unexpected will jump out and drag you down. “You could call it that.”</p>
<p>George steps right in. “Yeah, why not.”</p>
<p>The blond laughs then, and with no further preamble, giggles, “Catch me if you can!” In a flash, he’s taken a pearl off of his bandolier and thrown it as far as he can after getting a running start. Sapnap and George only have a second to look between themselves in bewilderment before making chase. The birch trees around them are far too thin to climb or jump between, which, fortunately, keeps Dream on the ground, but without any pearls at their disposal, Sapnap and George are already horribly behind the other. He materializes without fumbling in the distance, weaving between the trees. To George’s miscalculating eyes, he blends in with the summer greenery and it’s easy to lose him.</p>
<p>“Sapnap, you’re going to have to keep an eye on him and I’ll follow you.”</p>
<p>“Got it.” It’s funny, how they just fell into this situation and are now treating it seriously. If George is being honest, the rush of the chase is already quite fun. Up ahead, a little clearing opens between the trees where a big rock formation sits. Dream darts behind it, severing their line of sight to the masked man. With nothing else to do, they approach with full vigor.</p>
<p>“Dream,” Sapanp calls playfully. “Where are you?” The younger stalks to the left of the rock and instinctually, George goes right. <i>When did he get his crossbow out?</i></p>
<p>They come around the rock, which reaches somewhere around 10 feet in the air, at the same time, only to see Dream relaxing on the ground at its base.</p>
<p>“Bad hiding place, Dream,” George comments.</p>
<p>“Is it, now?” He jeers. “Why’ve you both got your weapons drawn on me?” The question would be startling if George hadn’t already noticed and if Dream had sounded frightened at all. He seemed only to ooze more confidence. </p>
<p>“It just felt right,” the younger supplies.</p>
<p>“Well, it doesn’t matter, anyways, does it?” Dream’s cocky attitude actually started to grate on some nerve deep inside him.</p>
<p>“I don’t know, you took that enderman bite pretty well the other night, I bet you could take an arrow to your shoulder no problem.” The words escape George’s mouth before he can think on them and he’s surprised by how frightening he sounds. If anything, he figures he can just bluff his way to getting Dream to stand down.</p>
<p>“Show me what you’ve got, village boy.”</p>
<p>Before George can weigh his options, not intent on actually hurting Dream but eager to get revenge for that comment, Sapnap steps in. He’s sparred with the man countless times and he’s more than happy to again, instigating a fight with a swing of his sword. Before it makes contact, however, Dream cleanly sidesteps him and tosses another pearl almost straight up in the air. The time it takes Sapnap to regain his balance and for George to continue waffling on what to do next is just enough time for the teleportation delay. Dream disapparates only to reappear on top of the rock to laugh at them stuck on the ground.</p>
<p>“Ugh! You’re the worst!” Sapnap shouts. Dream is in confident stitches from his elevated position. </p>
<p>Slowly, George lets his hackles down. He doesn’t actually want to hurt Dream, of course not, but he’s going to need to devise a way to get back at him some day for getting such a rise out of him.</p>
<p>“You could come on up and get me, boys.”</p>
<p>“Just for you to jump back down? No thanks,” George replies. “Unless you actually want me to shoot you.”</p>
<p>“That’s no fun! I’ve barely shown anything off!” The mask leers at him as Dream inspects the situation. “I could do a little bit of consensual shooting.”</p>
<p>George flushes at the weird comment and grumbles, “You’re not worth the bolts.”</p>
<p>“Okay, but are you impressed?” And there it is, that tender little blossom, seeking attention and validation, rain and sunshine to grow. Sure, getting a headstart and slipping out of their grasp when cornered weren’t inherently godlike feats, but knowing how it feels to get teleported through a pearl, George <i>is</i> impressed. Considering they just started this yesterday, he’s amazed at how efficient and graceful the blond is with the ability. He times his throws like he’s breathing, aims them perfectly, and somehow knows exactly what to do with his feet to land with catlike grace after being moved through some unknowable blackout void. In that moment, he concedes to himself that Dream can just do anything. He pours his whole self into any thing for however long it takes and it just comes together. </p>
<p>“Yes, you’re very impressive, Dream,” he mumbles. Even with the mask, he can tell the man is beaming. </p>
<p>“Yeah, get down here, Dreamy,” Sapnap leers. “I’ve got to give you a kiss for being so good.”</p>
<p>Their laughter echoes between the slender trees as they hit the road again. So much learning lies in the days and months that are yet to unfold.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Firelight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A year and almost two months after they become enderman hunters, Dream, Sapnap, and George find themselves in a lakeside city where their feelings are bared under the summer sky.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So, as the summary suggests, this chapter takes place a year after chapter one of this fic, but about half a year before "Set the Night Aglow."</p>
<p>Also sorry if you don't like dialogue, because this is so very many feelings being spewed forth in conversational form &lt;3.</p>
<p>Hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sapnap’s bones ache from sitting most of the day, something he’s completely unused to after years adventuring with Dream. Speaking of the man, he actually had the decency to let his companions know he would be on a monster hunting job tonight, so Sapnap is just waiting on George to return to their room at the inn. Despite the fact his body was begging to get up and <i>do</i> something, he felt his eyes grow heavy as he stared out of the window from his position slumped on the bed. The buildings in Neiceth are distant enough from one another that he can look out over the green hills drenched in late-afternoon sun and long, hazy shadows all the way to the lake. Its waves reflect the light almost like the flicker of fire and it comforts him.</p>
<p>He’s half-asleep, head foggy, when the door to the room opens. </p>
<p>George steps inside, hair ruffled and face a vibrant, stinging pink. It’s cute, the way he looks to be adorned by a permanent blush.</p>
<p>“Hi, Gogy,” he mumbles drowsily. “You look cute,” he adds with a grin.</p>
<p>George just scrunches his face up like he ate a lemon. “I know for a fact I’m all sweaty and sunburnt, Sapnap. You can’t flatter me.” </p>
<p>“Maybe that’s what I like, you don’t know.”</p>
<p><i>“Maybe that’s what I like,”</i> he repeats in a mocking voice while he sheds his shoes. “I’m going to wash up, I smell like so many dead fish.”</p>
<p>“Ew, stinky George.” The younger sticks out his tongue unevenly due to the way his cheek is still squished into the pillow. </p>
<p>George laughs. It’s high-pitched as ever, but Sapnap has grown fond of that laugh. “Yeah, do I need to come over there and give you a hug?”</p>
<p>The oldest of their group has been happy since they’ve been in Neiceth. He’s told him and Dream quite a bit about his life back in his village– although Sapnap suspects a lot has been omitted from those stories– and George has been having fun, back in his old element, out on the water. They tease one another some more as George finishes getting ready to head down to the cheap washroom downstairs. Before he opens the door to walk out, however, Sapnap remembers his goal here.</p>
<p>“Georgie?” It’s easy to tell when he is going to ask for something, with the whiny, pleading edge his voice takes on. He doesn’t mind the way his tone betrays him, though. “When you get back, I want to get out tonight.”</p>
<p>The best part of their friendship is that despite the way they push one another’s buttons just for fun, George gets him. </p>
<p>“Mhmm. Sounds good.”</p>
<p>An hour or so later, they’re seated at a small table in a nearby pub of sorts. George is freshly shaved, not a short hair out of place, cheeks and nose glowing red. Sapnap is about the exact opposite: nap-mussed hair hastily held back by his bandana, the scruff on his chin neglected, and if his skin is glowing, it’s because the summer night is humid; he feels sticky but doesn’t think he smells bad yet. </p>
<p>In between ravenous bites of his dinner– it’s not often they get fresh vegetables on the road– he asks, “Does that hurt?”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“You’re very sunburnt.”</p>
<p>“Mmh. Yeah, kind of. But I’m actually making money, so it’s worth it.” He pauses. “Unlike <i>some</i> of us.”</p>
<p>Sapnap decides to feign ignorance. “Who, Dream?”</p>
<p>“If Dream isn’t the one doing jobs here, you must be able to pay for all this, then.” The other counters coolly. </p>
<p>Sapnap deflates in his chair and pouts. “Rude.”</p>
<p>“The truth hurts.”</p>
<p>Banter is their language. George rarely expresses his feelings in a vulnerable way and when they first met, he barely expressed his thoughts at all. Sapnap chose to bring him out of his shell back then by joking around, usually at Dream’s expense, sometimes his own. It wasn’t until the older man got comfortable firing roasts at Sapnap that they began their routine of endless ribbing to communicate their friendship.</p>
<p>In the end, George does pay for dinner and a few cheap drinks. They never reach <i>drunk</i>, but by the time they walk into the evening, there’s a definite warmth in Sapnap’s veins and his companion is ever so slightly more giggly at his bad jokes. Neiceth is so pretty compared to the other cities he’s been in and he isn’t ready to go back to the inn yet. He still hasn’t had the chance to burn off his excess energy for the day. </p>
<p><i>Speaking of burn,</i> the cloying voice in his head calls. He shakes it off, tonight, instead focusing on what he can get up to in the streets. There’s always time to light a fire in the stove at the inn and make the room too boiling-hot when they get back anyway. Most of the roofs here are gabled, making them bad for hanging out on, which does disappoint him somewhat until he remembers something he saw on his walk to the library in the morning. </p>
<p>“You’re not afraid of heights, right?”</p>
<p>“No. You aren’t, uh, planning to dangle me from a tree, perhaps?” George stands up taller. “Because if you are, I would like to remind you that I can hold my own against you, so don’t get any ideas.”</p>
<p>The younger of them can’t contain the boisterous laugh that boils up from his chest and overflows from his mouth. “Yeah– Yeah, you–” The laugh threads through his words insistently, the way a vine forces its way through the cracks in a stone wall. “You keep thinking that, big boy.”</p>
<p>“I’m older than you!”</p>
<p>“Like that matters.” Sapnap grins as their feet continue to carry them aimlessly through the town. </p>
<p>“I’m going to beat you up sometime when I get my hands back on my bow, but I’m not going to give you any hint about when that’ll be. So you better keep your eyes open, Sapnap.”</p>
<p>“You’re threatening me! You just said you’d shoot me while I sleep!” His shout is of mock offense but it’s loud and brassy.</p>
<p>“I was joking! I was joking!” George repeats loudly and desperately. “People are going to hear and turn me in to the guard!”</p>
<p>“That’s what you get for threatening me,” he says at a normal volume. “Wow, Gogy, you’re not a very good friend. What kind of friend does that?”</p>
<p>George just casually assents. “We’ve known I’m not a very good friend.”</p>
<p>The opening is there, so Sapnap decides to take it without thinking. “Would you say you’re more of <i>boyfriend</i> material, then?” He even goes so far as to garnish the comment with a suggestive eyebrow waggle.</p>
<p>George coughs at that. “None of that, okay, okay, come on– Why did you ask if I’m afraid of heights?”</p>
<p>“Can’t a guy keep a secret?”</p>
<p>As an answer, George just levels him with a disappointed glare, paired expertly with arms folded across his chest. </p>
<p>“Fine, fine, fine. Can we pleeeeaaaaaase break into the church and climb the belltower?”</p>
<p>The other splutters for a moment. “What! I’m literally so tired and you want me to climb a <i>belltower?</i>”</p>
<p>“It’s just a ladder or stairs, come on,” he protests. “That’s why we have to break in, so we don’t have to scale the walls.”</p>
<p>“Why, though.” It is a statement, not a question.</p>
<p>At that exact moment, they pass a house, opening the view to the lake. The sun is mostly resting beneath the horizon– luckily, Neiceth is situated on the east coast of the lake, so the sun looks like it’s getting dunked into the lake as it sets. He knows George doesn’t see the brilliant colors that he does in the sunset, but he also knows that the older loves to look out over the water and get lost in the rocking of the waves. The golden summer sunset extends its last feeble rays right onto their skin, warming the exchange a degree.</p>
<p>He gestures at the landscape to their left. “You don’t want to spend some time appreciating that?”</p>
<p>And that’s how they end up in the cramped space of the belfry under the cover of night sometime later, leaning against one another at the shoulder. From here, so much of the lake is visible, illuminated by the moon and stars. It isn’t the sea, but from a human perspective, it looks just as big.</p>
<p>"How was fishing?" Sapnap asks, genuinely curious. </p>
<p>"Nice," George states simply but wistfully. It says a lot to Sapnap, just that one word, the way it rolls off of the other's tongue, the way it pairs with his expression. </p>
<p>He lets the conversation carry him, eyes beginning to wander aimlessly across rooftops, over the waves, up to the night sky, interspersed with thin wisps of clouds that frame the near-full moon. "I'm glad. You looked happy, too, earlier."</p>
<p>George brushes it off, laughing with his lips closed and pressing his bony shoulder into Sapnap's. "Mhmm. And what did you accomplish today?"</p>
<p>"Walked around and took some notes on who's selling what around here, but I spent most of the day in the library. It's a good library, too. They've got some books on brewing, I guess it's pretty common up north as long as you can get the supplies. So I kind of fell down that rabbit hole for most of the time," he adds noncommittally. Potions are cool, they're so useful, and he likes to learn new things like that. He likes ways to distract himself and swallow up his annoying thoughts. But he's not invested in telling George for the sake of sharing the information. There's something else, a smoky thread of <i>feeling</i> that he's familiar with by now that leads him to spill every mundane thought from his disorganized head to George.</p>
<p>"And is it easy to get the ingredients up here?" George is always practical in his conversations like that. His words are sparse but they always have a purpose. Sapnap admires it.</p>
<p>He isn't even looking at the sky anymore. His eyes were drawn by the moonlight to where it shines brightly on George's face. It's distracting. "Kind of. It's all imported."</p>
<p>George only hums to show that he heard, eyes firmly caught in the lull of the lake at night. The silence that stretches between them is cozy, the kind shared by close friends who have spent countless hours together, so many that they don't always have something new worth saying.</p>
<p>The problem is that Sapnap does have so many things he could say. They often bubble hot under the surface of his skin, they hiss in his mind like water thrown on a fire, they want to flick from his mouth and set the proverbial house ablaze-</p>
<p>His hands itch.</p>
<p>So he presses the thoughts down with a new topic. </p>
<p>"I also found out that there's legend of a monster in the mountains around here," he adds, wiggling his eyebrows and trying to make it sound superficially spooky. He hopes he can make George giggle or secretly clam up in fear.</p>
<p>He sort of gets what he wants, George chuffs out a tiny laugh and says, "I'm not afraid of monsters, anymore, Sapnap." His tone is a touch petulant, which is even better than his original aims, because it's a loose thread he can pick at to poke fun at the other man.</p>
<p>"Aw, little Georgie isn't scared of monsters anymore, huh? You don't sound so secure in that." He feels his own smile overtaking his face as George's expression morphs into an annoyed glare.</p>
<p>"I've killed every kind of monster that I know about!" he protests.</p>
<p>"Yeah, but this isn't a normal kind of monster," Sapnap drawls. "It's one-of-a-kind, they say, nearly immortal. Bigger than any one person could fight on their own, too- except maybe Dream," he adds lightly. He did actually find some records of supposed sightings and handwritten field guides in the library that mentioned it, but he doesn't believe it's actually out there. He and Dream have seen plenty of ridiculous, unexpected things in the world, but he's logical; he doesn't believe in unlikely things until he sees them with his own eyes.</p>
<p>Nope. He just wants to mess with George.</p>
<p>"The records describe it like a black dog, as tall as a house, that just absorbs the light. It’s like a shadow, or darkness itself, but very real. It’s allegedly eaten villagers before in dry seasons when there’s not enough prey in the mountains to go around. The people are really scared of it.”</p>
<p>George just raises an eyebrow. “How come I haven’t seen anyone talking about it, then? We’ve been in and out of Neiceth for almost a week, literally looking for adventuring jobs, and no one has asked us to kill it. I would know, because Dream would have leaped at the chance. Instead, he’s out tonight at a zombie dungeon or something like that.” In the deep pools of George’s eyes, there’s a glimmer of amusement, and he’s still hooked on the conversation, despite feigning ambivalence.</p>
<p>Everything Sapnap has said up to this point was true to what he read, which, admittedly, was all from at least fifty years ago. But he has no reason not to embellish. “Well, I can tell you why that is, easy. They believe that talking about it is a bad omen. Acknowledging its presence makes it more active. Real terrifying stuff.”</p>
<p>“If it’s so scary, why do you sound completely unfazed?” Damn, he just won’t break. Although when he thinks about it, he doesn’t think that frightening George was ever a realistic goal that he possessed. </p>
<p>He decides to plaster on as smug of a grin as he can muster with absolutely nothing to be smug about and lean in close enough that his breath could ghost over George’s skin, fire on water. “You know I’m fearless, Gogy. What’s gonna scare me? The fact that it has skin as strong as iron and wiry hairs that cut like knives?” He’s laying it on thick, and he’s having fun. “Meh. One day, we’re gonna go to the End and kill the dragon just to say we did.” He references the old wives’ tale that mothers tell their kids to frighten them.</p>
<p>George rolls his eyes but rocks forward imperceptibly. “Yeah. ‘We.’ You aren’t scared of anything because you’re always with Dream to keep you safe, idiot. I bet if we sent you up to kill the dog yourself you wouldn’t even get close enough to die because you’d run back at the first glance.”</p>
<p>“I would die without <i>you,</i> George!” To emphasize his point, he places his hand on George’s bicep, finding it tense from holding the slight man up at a twisted angle. “To kill it, you have to shoot into its mouth when it goes to bite you and nobody’s as good with quick shots as you are.” At the end of his completely fabricated statement, his voice drops lower, more velvety and cloying as he tries to flatter George. He knows he’s pushing his luck, pretending his hidden feelings aren’t piloting his words and actions right now.</p>
<p>George doesn’t lean out of his touch or away from his face to reply. “And I bet it breathes fire, too? And requires cult sacrifice to appease it every solstice.”</p>
<p>Sapnap lets his brain grasp at whatever comes to mind. "Yep. And it's got two, massive, uh... schlongs."</p>
<p>The searching tone with which he delivers the joke is what sells it. The older laughs first; it jumps out of his chest and into the space between them. This only opens the floodgates for Sapnap to join him in noisy, disruptive, genuine peals of laughter.</p>
<p>They're both laughing so hard that it echoes over the rooftops and sings out into the pines. After they've woken the birds in the belfry and probably all the nearby townspeople, the fit leaves them leaning onto one another, shoulder to hip, giggling and trying to catch their breath. George's sun-flushed face ended up tucked into Sapnap's shoulder as his lungs heaved through his joy, and as it dies down, he pulls back. He doesn't pull away though, never leaves the warm little bubble of Sapnap's personal space. Instead, their eyes meet, and George's are crinkled at the edges, dewy from nearly-shed tears. He's still smiling.</p>
<p>He's more radiant than the moon that washes his pale skin silver, that brings in the tides. </p>
<p>And every tidal wave of feeling crashes onto him and through him all at once.</p>
<p>"Can I kiss you?"</p>
<p>No verbal reply ever comes, because George closes the minute gap between them without hesitation. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>George's lips are somehow soft, despite the way his face was battered by the wind on the open lake all day and it doesn't even surprise Sapnap. The oldest is always impossible, always a pleasant surprise, always bringing something that he didn't know he and Dream even needed. That's why he started to feel things for George, isn't it? He's amazing despite being unassuming and always keeps Sapnap on his toes. While he knows everything about Dream- he can read Dream like a book and telegraph exactly what he's going to do- George is harder to understand and Sapnap wants to work him out like a never-ending puzzle.</p>
<p>The kiss isn't timid, nor is it heated. It's slow and full of emotions. If Sapnap had to untangle that web, he'd say there's comfort and contentment in the drag of their lips parting only to meet again, unabashed joy and laughter in the hand that presses on his jaw, and love that's always lingered around them in the tilt of Sapnap's head, in the way the sides of their noses brush together. The kiss lasts a very reasonable amount of time before George pulls away, his hands still framing Sapnap's face. His dark eyes, amused, graze over the younger's face, making Sapnap feel like melting. Normally, he feels like burning, going up in flames at the slightest provocation, but right now, with George, the warmth in his chest is slow and gentle and syrupy.</p>
<p>"You're so dumb," the sunburnt angel in front of him whispers and it's so sickeningly fond.</p>
<p>No words. Just unpremeditated laughter. It's their language, really, more so than teasing jibes that repackage their true feelings in a way that's easy to send and receive. </p>
<p>When he re-collects himself, Sapnap giggles, "I kiss you and the first thing you say is I'm <i>dumb?</i>"</p>
<p>George, who had been sucking on his own bottom lip, lets it pop free all shiny with saliva and smiles. "You are." His voice is so gentle and he's drawn his hands back into his lap, but he's still making eye contact. "I could have been kissing you for how long now?"</p>
<p>"I have no idea. The better part of the last year, probably."</p>
<p>"I've practically only known you for a year!"</p>
<p>Sapnap shrugs. "Guess I just fall easily, then." He says it but he knows it isn't exactly true. He does, he does, he knows it, but he knows George isn't just any pretty girl or guy who's caught his eye in a town. Too many of those encounters passed in his life, people he asked Dream if he could chase for a night, for which Dream almost always gave his blessing... Well, now is decidedly not the time to be thinking on what Dream has been in the past to him, what he could have been; because now he has George right in front of him, reflecting the light of the moon and the lake and the stars and looking at him like he trusts him to always tell the best jokes. Maybe even to hold his heart and not reduce it to ash.</p>
<p>"Well if you've been hung up on me for so long..." George begins. He inhales softly like he's gathering strength to say what comes next. "Would you want to be, I don't know, like, official? About it?"</p>
<p>And here Sapnap is, thinking he's been the emotionally mature one around when George is living up to his position as the eldest, ready to label things and Sapnap's never labelled any relationship in his life, not even the most important ones. He lets the tide carry him in this time. "Of course."</p>
<p>They're together, then. Boyfriends, even. A smile splits his face at the thought and makes his /heart flutter giddily in his ribcage. He kisses George again, just because he can, up above Neiceth where no one can see them but they can see the whole world ahead until it's curvature obscures what lies beyond the lake.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>When they get back to their room, they hear shuffling inside and can see candlelight flickering under the door. Dream must be back already; his job must have been easy. </p>
<p>The door does happen to be locked still when George tries the handle, so he calls out, “Dream! Wanna let us in?” They could dig out the other key somewhere on George’s person, but it would probably be easier for Dream to walk across the small space and open the door for them.</p>
<p>Muffled through the heavy spruce door, Dream’s voice floats back. “Yeah!” Footsteps come closer and Sapnap hears the latch turn just as the door swings open. Standing there in his full clothes and boots but without armor is Dream, face covered by that mask. Of course, what lies beneath is no mystery to Sapnap; he’s known him since before he started wearing the mask, back when Dream was just a kid a couple years older than him. It’s been a while, though, since he’s spent any amount of time in front of Sapnap without it. He kind of longs for those nights in the middle of nowhere, with the infinite world spread out in all directions, that were just the two of them at a campfire, faces bare and hearts unshaded. But Dream isn’t ready to be that way to George yet, it would seem, so for now, those nights are a thing of the past. </p>
<p>In fact, he’s got new unabashed nights ahead of him, he remembers. His hand is still linked with George’s in the way that it had been since they climbed down from the church’s bell tower. Dream seems to see it the moment that he realizes the gesture is still something that Dream can see.</p>
<p>“What’s with the hand-holding, boys?” he asks like it’s a joke.</p>
<p>Feeling a rush of confidence, Sapnap replies bluntly, “Well, George and I are dating now.”</p>
<p>At being mentioned, the man turns his head sharply to look at Sapnap, shooting him a look that says, <i>We’re really just telling him now?</i> to which Sapnap shrugs. </p>
<p>Dream, at the same time, holds his breath and then practically shouts an incredulous, “What?” at them.</p>
<p>The oldest follows the flow that Sapnap set then, declaring, “It’s true. He kissed me.” Sometimes, George sets his jaw, ignites a look in his eyes that gave him the air of someone much taller, and speaks his mind in a way that no one would dare question. When he speaks so matter-of-factly, it’s hard to doubt a word he says.</p>
<p>It’s strange, too, having this conversation halfway in the hall, with Dream backlit and shadowed, wearing his mask. Sapnap knows his friend’s expressions must be shifting dramatically under their guise and it would make this conversation so much easier if he could just <i>see</i> again. So he decides to take control using what he knows to make it run more smoothly for everyone, which starts with hitting the ball back into familiar territory. </p>
<p>“I know it’s hard for you to imagine me pulling someone as hot as George because your memory is awful—” he decides to reference his many successful dates— “but I’m a catch and you’ll just have to accept that. Anyways, can we come in? We’re paying for the room just as much as you, man.”</p>
<p>Back on familiar territory, Dream bites, complete with words stretched by a smile. “I guess you can, but that’s big talk coming from the guy who hasn’t been working this past week.” He steps back from the door frame as he says it, holding the door open for George and Sapnap to walk through. </p>
<p>The room is quite dark this late at night, illuminated only by a couple of candles whose light flickers at the breeze through the room’s open windows. Outside, crickets sing in harmony with the sound of the waves.</p>
<p>George sits down in the rickety wooden chair by the unlit furnace and leans back. Dream’s armor is laid out on the one large bed that they shelled out for— no beds is what they’re used to and buying multiple rooms for even more sleeping space was out of the question— like he just took it off. “It’s probably better to just be upfront about it anyways, Dream,” the oldest contributes nonchalantly.</p>
<p>“I know. I just thought you guys were messing with me, at first. I… kind of still do.” He starts to put away his armor as he talks, which puts his back to both George and Sapnap. It’s not like they could see his face anyway. His hesitance says a lot and so little at the same time. </p>
<p>“Well, it’s not a problem, right?” Sapnap pushes.</p>
<p>Dream stops moving his armor and straightens up, pointing his gaze right at Sapnap. “Of course not. I just… never thought I’d see the day.”</p>
<p>“What’s that supposed to mean?” George pokes lightly.</p>
<p>“Nothing! I just didn’t think you idiots were smart enough to figure it out— that you liked each other,” he supplies. “I’m happy for you, I swear.”</p>
<p>Sapnap can’t help but smile crookedly then, placated for the time being. He figures he’ll get a chance to talk to Dream about it soon, after he’s had a little time to process. They have a lot to talk about, after all. “Aw, Dream, you’re too sweet. I promise I won’t kiss George when you’re around, since you’re being so nice about it.” Maybe he can’t help but tease a little.</p>
<p>“Way to talk about me like I’m not even here,” George pipes up from his seat.</p>
<p>“Do you want to kiss in front of Dream?” Sapnap giggles.</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” he says coyly but with finality. “That’s up to Dream.”</p>
<p>“Oh my god, you both are just— The worst!” Dream’s flustered comment sends both of the others into a fit of giggles. “Ugh,” the blond cuts them off. “I was actually about to go wash up. I smell like zombie rot and we prepaid for the water.” He steps towards to door, past Sapnap. Before he slips out, though, he adds, “Thanks for telling me. Really.” The door closes behind him heavily.</p>
<p>A gentle silence overtakes the room for a minute. Sapnap shucks off his boots and sits heavily on the green quilt of the bed. “That actually went well.”</p>
<p>George is thoughtful, staring out the window at the moon. “Mhmm.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry for not running it by you first. We should have decided when we wanted to tell Dream together.”</p>
<p>The older turns, his skin drenched in the warm, dark shadows of the room. “It’s okay. He would have found out soon anyways. We literally all live together and spend most of our time in the same open-aired twenty-foot radius, Sapnap.” The younger man nods in agreement before flopping back onto the mattress. He’s finding that he loves the way George says his name, all round and soft and smooth. </p>
<p>He gets to thinking then, and like always when he thinks, when he’s unoccupied, his thoughts call out to him. “Would you mind if I lit the furnace, George?” he asks softly, unsure of how it will sound. </p>
<p>“Why? It’s hot.”</p>
<p>“I’m a bit cold,” he supplies weakly. “I just like to be cozy when I sleep, I guess.” He’s not ready to dive into this topic with George. He will one day, but he doesn’t have the words, not yet.</p>
<p>Instead of an affirmation or telling-off, the chair creaks like it’s living its last, and then soft, very soft footsteps cross the knotted wooden floor and he feels a weight sink onto the bed beside him. He opens his eyes and looks over. George has sat next to him and placed a hand on his waist.</p>
<p>“Get ready for bed and under the covers. I know I run cold usually but I’ll keep you warm.”</p>
<p>Because he wasn’t upset to begin with, because the urge wasn’t strong to begin with, because his brain is occupied with this new dimension to his life, he acquiesces. The room would get too hot with a fire, anyway. They do leave the candles lit, however, so that Dream can see when he gets back.</p>
<p>It isn’t until very late that the candles go out.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wakes in the morning to the sound of gulls over the lake and George’s hand on his shoulder, shaking gently, insistently. </p>
<p>“You’re so cute,” George whispers, “the way you sleep with your head tucked under the covers.”<br/>Sometimes it’s too easy to forget that the man who is now his boyfriend— <i>his boyfriend</i>— is actually a huge flirt, since he seems to guard his emotions very closely. The way it frequently makes him and even Dream choke on their words makes his skill all the more admirable. To say that it stuns him into silence this early in the morning is an understatement. He’s happy that his face is still buried, because he’s blushing furiously. </p>
<p>After a moment, he composes his thoughts enough to question the situation. “Where’s Dream?” George is stroking his shoulder from his position on the edge of the bed and if Dream were around, he probably wouldn’t be showing such open affection, for the blond’s sake.</p>
<p>“He left early again.”</p>
<p>“He said he’d be with us for the market today, though.” A sour taste settles on his tongue. Is Dream avoiding them now?</p>
<p>George picks up on the shift in his voice. “I’m sure he’ll be back in time or at least find us in the market. It’s not like Neiceth is that big and he’s smart.” He’s leaned back now, giving Sapnap room to sit up and stretch. He doubts that Dream’s reasoning for not sticking with them this morning is entirely due to “normal Dream behavior,” so instead of replying in accord, he just hums. The older gets up and begins organizing their boxes and bags full of items to sell at the market. When they’re done, hopefully, they’ll be travelling a lot lighter than they were when they came into the city, but knowing the way they pick up just as much when they’re in civilization, it’s an empty hope. </p>
<p>Every day they’ve spent in Neiceth has been a perfect summer day, with clear blue skies over the lake and the distant mountains, accented by a gentle breeze from over the water. The window in their room has stayed wide open and it currently pours in white sunlight. Sapnap dresses quickly and tames his hair. He’s not exactly excited to carry all the excess materials they’ve gathered out into the streets but he’s always eager to help George or Dream in whatever way he can.</p>
<p>Helpful. Strong. Useful. Attentive. <i>Not</i> a burden. Sometimes he has to remind himself why he works so hard to put the pep in his step every day.</p>
<p>“Wait. Where’s the pillager banners and the spider parts?” George inquires tensely.</p>
<p>Sapnap hops over while pulling his trousers on to look. Last time he checked— not that inventory was his job— everything was there in the corner, stacked neatly and labelled by George. He voices this knowledge.</p>
<p>The shorter man’s eyebrows furrow and he frowns deeply at the pile. “I don’t think Dream would have taken it.”</p>
<p>Ever for saving his mental energy, Sapnap tries, “I don’t know where else it could have gone,” which is true. He knows, however, that Dream hates all the sitting around of market days and has never once gotten a head start on setting up without dragging Sapnap, and now George as well, along. </p>
<p>“You’re right. You think he knows where we’re supposed to be?”</p>
<p>Honestly, he doesn’t even know that there is a specific place they’re meant to set up; usually, markets are a free for all. “Maybe.”</p>
<p>"So... Do you think we should just go regardless and get started?" George runs his delicate but calloused hands through his short hair, ruffling it.</p>
<p>He shrugs in reply. "Why not?"</p>
<p>So they lug a couple of bags and boxes of adventurer miscellany through the mid-morning, the puzzling question of what Dream has gotten up to lingering in the air. Sapnap follows George’s lead, his mind eventually wandering to how giddy and fluttery his heart still feels at the thought of the few kisses they’ve shared since the evening before. The shorter man walks confidently through the market, which is beginning to populate with vendors at tables and the earliest customers of the day— he memorized their location and the necessary route a couple days ago just to be responsible. </p>
<p>His idle thoughts are captured by the green ivy that covers so many of the city’s buildings and the scent of food from bakeries and stands. It’s awfully romantic and pleasant to be in civilization and he wouldn’t admit it, but maybe the atmosphere played into his motivations when he confessed to George.</p>
<p>He’s so caught up in taking in the sights and sounds and smells of the market that he runs directly into George’s back, who has stopped in his tracks in front of one of the tables. His boyfriend stumbles and curses at him, but his attention is still not fully on Sapnap, despite his offense. They both almost drop some of their cargo, although it would be more expected than the surprise that greets them at what must be their table. </p>
<p>Dream leans confidently against a half-filled market display with their four pillager banners and the jars of spider eyes and venom that George noted were missing, as well as three neatly cut rabbit’s feet that must have been tucked in with the other products. It’s not enough to populate the entire area of the table, but it’s arranged artfully, with all but one of the banners folded neatly and stacked to show the edge of all of them, the last one hanging in front of the table to make the whole design visible. Along with the items they brought to sell, some of the space is taken up by a gaudy bouquet of flowers and a wrapped loaf of some kind of bread. Dream would never put this much effort into a market display.</p>
<p>Something’s definitely up, but Sapnap doesn’t even know where to begin with trying to unravel this.“Good morning!” The tallest greets cheerily. </p>
<p>“Uh, good morning, Dream,” George replies, thoroughly dumbfounded as well.</p>
<p>Sapnap steps out from behind the eldest and sets his heavy box down on the cobbles. “What’s all this?”</p>
<p>Dream begins unpacking items as the others unload what they’ve carried. “Oh you know, I’m just on top of things.” Then, tone sly, he continues, “You want to be one of them?” He utters the idiotic pick-up line like it’s not horribly blunt and suggestive and way too forward for the situation, but does take a moment to cockily survey their reactions.</p>
<p>George laughs loud and high, nervous but always open to some chaotic energy.</p>
<p>After sputtering and calling him an absolute dickhead, Sapnap surveys the array again, eyes catching on the bread. His stomach grumbles over with his thoughts, which are a storm of embarrassment. “You picked up food?” </p>
<p>“Yep.” Dream sounds proud, maybe even beaming; he’s always been very expressive.</p>
<p>Sapnap curiously pokes at it and unwraps the bakery cloth. A warm loaf of bread, swirled with sugar and spices and begging to be torn apart rests next to three oranges. It’s absolutely tantalizing, considering he’s so hungry. He blinks up at Dream and he can feel his eyes wide like full moons. He’s definitely being extra thoughtful today because of what they told him last night, but for this, he’s willing to quash his anxieties and soak in his warm, fond feelings for the tallest.</p>
<p>Dream helps them finish setting up and once they’ve all settled in behind their table— which looks way nicer than it ever has before— they distribute their food.</p>
<p>George takes a bite. “I haven’t had anything sweet in so long.” The words are nice in his accent.</p>
<p>“Only something sweet for my sweet boys,” Dream declares.</p>
<p>George rolls his eyes and scoffs, “Dumbass.”</p>
<p>“Aww, but I’m <i>your</i> dumbass, George.”</p>
<p>“Nope,” the shortest pushes him off, lighthearted. “You can go be Sapnap’s dumbass.”</p>
<p>“Of course.” Dream turns on Sapnap and drapes a sticky hand over his shoulder. “Sappy, I’ve been scorned by George, I think I need to be held until I feel better.”</p>
<p>His cheeks darken at the close proximity despite the hesitance he holds for this whole situation. Leave it to Dream to make him blush like always. “Nope,” he manages. “I think I’m gonna go hold George since he’s so cute.”</p>
<p>“Aw come on, you’re no fun,” the blond protests. “I’m gonna prove that I’m totally worth it by being the best salesman this city has ever seen, and then you’ll both be sorry for turning me down,” he giggles. Immediately after saying so, he pops out of his chair like he’s spring-loaded and hops into the street, chatting up passersby and convincing them that they’re selling something they want. If only they could see his face instead of the impersonal mask that’s known to scare people off; they’d be rich.</p>
<p>The day passes lazily, heating up, streets filling with an ever-changing swell of people who contribute to the dwindling pile of hard-to-gather items on their table and the growing cache of emeralds in a locked box that’s spent a lot of time sitting on Sapnap’s knees. In the morning, he took his turn venturing off from the group to buy anything personal he wanted, which ended up being an interesting exercise in pressing down his own purchasing impulses in favor of searching for some shiny trinket for George, who secretly loves superficial little tokens. The older two were left to handle selling things together, which was customary for their group. It’s too boring and, at times, chaotic to do alone.</p>
<p>At just after midday, Dream announces he’s going to take his break. Sitting still for so long makes his skin crawl, he notes. As the oldest is leaned across their booth, talking to a customer, Sapnap grabs Dream’s wrist before he can escape.</p>
<p>Surreptitiously, he whispers, “Don’t disappear. I wanna talk.”</p>
<p>The smiley-face mask stares down at him apathetically before Dream shrugs. “Of course.”</p>
<p>While he’s gone, he mentions to George that Dream is acting strange, which the oldest acknowledges, but is more willing to let it run its course than Sapnap is. Interestingly, he does return in a very timely manner and Sapnap is actually surprised that he’s being such a team player and didn’t get distracted by the awe of some intriguing new mystery like he is so wont to do. Unsurprisingly, he continues his strange act throughout the day, not just making comments but brushing arms with George, leaning across Sapnap’s personal space so closely that his hair almost brushes his nose and deigning to play a very irritating round of footsie with both of them when business is slow.</p>
<p>Sometime in the afternoon, George places his palms flat on the table. “Alright. It’s time I cross everything off the list. It’ll probably take me a while since I’m buying for everyone. Speaking of which, be ready to split the cost of shared supplies.” </p>
<p>Dream nods calmly. “Sure thing, lightning bug.” </p>
<p>Sapnap’s jaw drops just a little. Dream is pulling out <i>that</i> old nickname for George? As is expected, the oldest’s gaze drops timidly to the side as a little smile pulls at the corners of his lips. It hit hard for George, for whatever reason, and he and Dream only called him it when they really wanted to make him blush. </p>
<p>When he looks back at Dream, he crosses his arms and defiantly says, “No, you don’t get a discount for being cute, don’t ask.” It’s not cold, but it is resolute. “See you later.” </p>
<p>He disappears into the market day crowd and Sapnap watches him go, temporarily mulling over the implications of him possibly calling Dream cute. It’s actually way too much to process, so his thoughts naturally slip away from the topic. </p>
<p>He’s not necessarily eager to have the conversation he’s about to initiate, so he allows the brief indulgence of observation. For someone built so slightly, George is still damn intimidating with his crossbow strapped to his back, meant to deter any pickpockets or muggers. He’s put-together, too, finally dressed in clean, well-fitting clothes. Sapnap might be a little smitten and he soaks in the feeling for a minute. </p>
<p>Dream, for all his boldness today, is markedly silent in the din of the streets— he knows what’s coming. Might as well get it over with, then.</p>
<p>“Like I said, we need to talk.” Sapnap is surprised at the confidence in his own voice. Usually, Dream is all too good at taking his stability apart; the blond delights in flustering him. Right now, though, he has to be in control. He won’t just hand himself over to the other’s flirtatious chaos.</p>
<p>“About what?” The nonchalance is clearly forced.</p>
<p>“You <i>said</i> you were cool with it. With mine and George’s relationship. So why are you acting extra weird today?”</p>
<p>Dream looks firmly at the box of ender pearls on their table. “Extra weird?”</p>
<p>He’s got to keep his cool, Sapnap reminds himself. But man, it really pisses him off when Dream plays clueless. “You know what I’m talking about. You’ve been flirting with me <i>and</i> George all day,” he says through gritted teeth.</p>
<p>“Oh, come on. I’m always flirty,” he defends. If he didn’t know the masked adventurer through to his soul, his bubbly tone would have read as genuine.</p>
<p>“Definitely not this much, you aren’t.”</p>
<p>Finally, Dream turns to look at him. His tone is more serious when he says, “We all flirt with each other. No one’s exactly had the chance to tell me that—”</p>
<p>“Excuse me,” a creaky voice interrupts. “Are these cave spider eyes?” An old woman, clearly clued into the tense energy of the shopkeepers’ chat, asks. </p>
<p>Putting on his best customer service smile, he offers, “Yes they are! Are you interested in buying?” </p>
<p>“I’m thinking about it,” she croons, sticking her hand into the deep pocket of her skirt. </p>
<p>“Take your time!” Dream suggests and Sapnap wants to strangle him. He feels the fabric of their conversation pulled taut over the time the old woman takes to consider what they’re offering, threatening to snap.</p>
<p>Eventually, she picks up one of the little stopped jars filled with green eyes that just barely slosh around in their fluid and taps it absently. “How much?” </p>
<p>“For just that?”</p>
<p>She nods.</p>
<p>“3 emeralds,” Dream states.</p>
<p>Her right hand, heretofore hidden in the copious fabric of her skirt, emerges and she spills the three neatly carved gems onto the table. The jar, held in her left, is taken slowly into the corresponding pocket. “Have a good day, boys,” she utters before leaving.</p>
<p>The moment she steps back out of the immediate area of the booth, Sapnap raises an eyebrow and prompts, “We didn’t tell you what?”</p>
<p>Dream’s tone seeps frustration to match as he sweeps the emeralds into their stash. “That everything had to be different now that you’re dating George. Like I said, I’ve always said stuff like that to both of you.”</p>
<p>“You’re the one who’s making things weird just because of our relationship,” he hisses, trying to keep his voice low due to the exposure of their settings.</p>
<p>“It’s not weird if you don’t make it weird. It doesn’t mean anything and you’re reading too much into it.” Dream turns away.</p>
<p>The sounds of the market absolutely disappear as Sapnap feels like the air is punched out of his lungs. He knows the man is lying because he’s been speaking Dream’s language for years, but there’s a sliver of his own mind that whispers sickening doubts and makes them feel like a hidden reality, revealed by heaven’s dastardly whims. </p>
<p>
  <i>None of it ever meant anything. Even before George. You’ve always been worthless to Dream, he’s only ever given you affection out of pity.</i>
</p>
<p>He tries to speak but all that comes out is a whimper.</p>
<p>His silence must last too long because Dream turns back and gently begs, “Sap?”</p>
<p>He’s falling apart at the seams, overfilled with anger, fear, annoyance, and something that feels like being dropped off a cliff and knowing there are rocks below. When he looks back up, he can feel his eyes smoldering because it’s easier to look pissed than it is to look broken, especially in public. “It meant nothing, then? None of it?”</p>
<p>Dream’s been by his side for too many years because he knows exactly what he means, exactly where his mind took him. He gasps and the air catches in his throat audibly before he utters, “That’s not what I meant.”</p>
<p>“Then you’re lying about everything you’ve done today meaning nothing.” He feels like he’s spilling ash and smoke into the sunny, perfect day with every word, ruining it for everyone, but he can’t stop. “Why can’t you just be honest?”</p>
<p>Because Dream doesn’t know what’s best when it comes to feelings, he drops something much larger on Sapnap than he needed to. “Of course I wanted you. I never stopped wanting you. It’s just… more complicated now.” He doesn’t even have the decency to say it and look him in the eye.</p>
<p>It hurts. He feels tears, borne of confusion and frustration and a little bit of just wanting to kiss Dream hard, hard, hard, spring to his eyes. He feels his face burn where anyone can see it and he’s <i>angry</i> that the other would put him in this position, of having to process something so surreal and intense when it isn’t just the two of them. </p>
<p>Dream never stopped wanting him.</p>
<p>Not when George came along; the other didn’t replace him nor did he change the dynamic of their group so much as to inspire Dream to move on. No, he could have kept on holding Dream’s hand while they walked, kept stealing kisses from him at sunset and dawn, kept occasionally sleeping curled into his strong arms… just the way he never stopped wanting. </p>
<p>If he were weaker, he might have blamed George for the shift in his and Dream’s relationship. It was the new addition to the party that resulted in the blond returning to constantly covering his face and withdrawing from Sapnap. But it was Dream’s choice to do all those things and be a coward despite his feelings.</p>
<p>“I’m going to go find George. He- he… You can manage this yourself.” He gestures weakly to the booth, but he doesn’t even know what he means. He just wants to be away from his masked best friend and climb out of his own skin or something. He isn’t going to make this George’s problem until he gets a grip.</p>
<p>The opportunity to talk about what’s going on doesn’t come that day, as they have plans to have some fun before leaving the city the next morning.</p>
<p>They go to see the theater troupe that’s passing through that’’s been advertised since they arrived over a week ago. The plan to attend had been cemented since well before all this tension business began. Although he isn’t much of a man of the arts to begin with, the experience is further soured by Dream’s flirting at George and the confession violently rattling in his skull. He’s sat there in the darkened theater with no clue what’s transpiring onstage, confused and frustrated, watching George blush as Dream surreptitiously wraps his arm around his shoulders and leans in close to joke about the show or something. He honestly can’t hear, with Dream seated on the other side of George.</p>
<p>It’s strange. The scene in front of him— or rather, beside him, because he doesn’t care a lick about the actual scene at the front of the theater— doesn’t inspire the spike of jealousy in his gut that it should. George is <i>his</i> partner now, but the dark, neglected part of his heart where fires burn wants Dream’s affection, too, wants both of them for himself and for each other. He’s good at pushing out pesky thoughts, if not just for other incessant urges to take their place.</p>
<p>Might as well leave to go light something responsibly before the twitch in his hands overcomes him and he sets the theater alight.</p>
<p>He leans over to George and gives some weak excuse about needing fresh air. Dream looks up at him, just a glance, and he hates that he knows. Too bad, Sapnap knows the all too caring look hidden behind that mask, too.</p>
<p>It looks like neither of them has any secrets between them, no matter how bad they may wish they could.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The next day, they’re out of Neiceth, travelling northeast, through the mountains. Sapnap is relieved to be out of the idyllic city; it must have been the lavish, day-to-day living that set a monster amok within the group and changed so much between them. He had hoped the open road would set Dream straight again, but his luck must be sour because nothing’s gotten better by the time they’ve set up camp for the night in the foothills, with pines and silver rock outcroppings framing the clearing they settle in.</p>
<p>"Do you wanna see something, George?" Dream asks, tone all too eager.</p>
<p>Sapnap wants to set Dream on fire since they’ve already got a campfire going, and not in the fun, sexy, metaphorical way he’s pondered before. He’s just as inexplicably flirtatious as he was the day before. </p>
<p>George doesn’t look up from the fishing hook he’s fiddling with but says, “Yes, why not,” anyway. He sounds tired.</p>
<p>The blond, who is already standing, announces, “I’ve been practicing tricks with the new knife.” </p>
<p>“Okay,” the brunet acknowledges and finally looks up.</p>
<p>Although he wasn’t explicitly invited to watch, they’re all within the same ten foot area, so Sapnap lets his idle attention fall on the display. He’s still annoyed with Dream for constantly trying to garner attention and then pretending like nothing’s wrong, but he has a soft spot for him nonetheless.</p>
<p>The dumb twirling thing that he does with the knife, flipping it between his fingers and spinning it quickly through the air isn’t really new, but Dream’s newest blade is a lot more substantial and intimidating than his older ones have been, meaning the balance is different. It looks like he’s finally perfected it, though, without losing a finger in the process. To someone who isn’t familiar with the technique, it must look intimidating, and admittedly, it speaks to the way the man treats the blade like an extension of himself. After completing a couple of fancy tosses and spins, he moves quick and with a flourish, pressing the not-yet-dulled blade inches from George’s neck… and for what?</p>
<p>It’s jarring, causing the eldest to freeze up with wide eyes. “Uh,” he whispers. “Dream?”</p>
<p>Ordinarily, the situation, if it got that far, would deescalate from there. But Dream, in his rare mood, pushes the envelope yet again. Seamlessly and without the blade getting any closer to George’s skin, he crouches in front of him so that the eyes of his mask are level with the other’s face.</p>
<p>“Yeah?” the tall man murmurs.</p>
<p>“What was that for?”</p>
<p>Dream presses forward, obstinate and idiotic. Gravity is pulling him disastrously down to the ground, wrecking everything in his path. The cool of the knife is now gently lying flat on George’s neck, not angled to cut, but pressing a broad line of tension into the skin. “I wanted to see if you were into that.” He angles his head when he says it, like he’s honestly expecting an answer or is at least intent on looking curious.</p>
<p>George’s face pulls from shock into a frown, eyes flashing with embarrassment. He opens his mouth to grasp for words but only splutters.</p>
<p>Finally, Sapnap snaps. "What the fuck, Dream? I told you off for this <i>yesterday,</i> and you're not acting any more mature now! You're acting worse!" </p>
<p>Unlike usual, unlike Sapnap expected, the man in the mask shatters. He can see it in the way his shoulders slump, the way he hangs his head, in the cowardly silence facing back at him. Nobody speaks for a moment and the only sound that can be heard is the crackle of the fire. He can't stop thinking about what Dream said yesterday at the market, the words that broke him, that set him out to sea with nothing to hold onto.</p>
<p>
  <i>Of course I wanted you. I never stopped wanting you.</i>
</p>
<p>"I'm sorry." It's so quiet, it's so feeble, he needs to hear it again to know it was ever there.</p>
<p>"What?"</p>
<p>His voice comes louder but sadder on the repeat. "I'm sorry." His masked face angles unwaveringly at the ground. "I'm sorry, George, for saying that to you. And I'm sorry for not being honest. I'm—" his voice breaks on a heavy breath, like a tidal wave crashed in his chest— "I'm sorry for being needy, for wanting more than I deserve." He's crying now, it's clear in his voice. Dream never cries. If he ever did in the past, they just never acknowledged it. Sapnap would hold him and Dream would drink it up, then pretend he never needed to be held the next day. It's always been a little bit insufferable.</p>
<p>He thinks it fondly.</p>
<p>Sapnap wants so badly to collapse to his knees beside the other, to wrap his arms around his shoulders and rub soothing circles into his back, to press his still-sooty hands below the curve of the mask and push it up so he can wipe away Dream's tears with his thumbs. He wishes on every star to just see the freckles that wash over his cheekbones again, dancing in the firelight. </p>
<p>But he has to be strong. They have to work this out first. Not talking through his problems has gotten Dream into whatever incorrigible state he's in. George is frozen, looking equally torn between reaching out to comfort the blond and still being upset at his disrespect. It's clear that after all the hurt he's been through, Sapnap is the only one who's going to take the reins and steer them to solid ground. </p>
<p>He's still mad at Dream, anyway. </p>
<p>"What do you mean, 'not being honest?'" he asks, trying so valiantly to sound level-headed.</p>
<p>Through a choked hiccup of a sob, Dream mutters, "I... I just— Ugh!" He takes a deep breath through his nose that's accompanied by the sound of ugly-crying snot blocking his breath. "I can't say it."</p>
<p><i>You had no problem saying all sorts of things the last couple of days to us,</i> he wants to say.  Instead, he says, "Take your time. We've got all night." As an olive branch, he steps to get closer and sit beside Dream but still not touch him. George takes this as an invitation to cave and awkwardly pat Dream on his shaking shoulder. It must be jarring; this is the first time he's seen him cry.</p>
<p>So they sit, three adventurers casting long shadows in the firelight, on the precipice of knowing, until Dream is ready to take the first step.</p>
<p>"It's— it's so hard for me to say. I keep opening my mouth to say it but... Something in me recoils every time I try to get it out." He clenches his fists into his pants, bunching the fabric on his thighs. His voice is flinty as he bites out, "I want to say it so bad. I can't find the words."</p>
<p>"Then just say it. It doesn't have to be perfect, I'll listen," George encourages.</p>
<p>They can all hear the deep breath he takes to steady himself. "Fine. I'll just spit it out: I'm jealous of your relationship."</p>
<p>Sapnap knew. He knew it deep down and he knew Dream was lying through his teeth, through that mask, when he told them he was happy for them.</p>
<p>It's a kindness that George speaks first. "You said you weren't bothered."</p>
<p>The blond's tone is reluctant; he replies like a scorned child, fearful of further contempt. "Of course I did. How could I not when I saw how happy you were?" The question is directed at George. </p>
<p><i>"You."</i> </p>
<p>It burns a little, makes Sapnap want to burn a lot.</p>
<p>The oldest is taken aback, though, and he's never been good at keeping his words in when he means them. "Jealous?" It's all Sapnap can muster. It's all that fills his mind, in every poisonous, slithering sense, the word is quickly rotting his feelings like a harming potion turns flesh into bubbling ooze.</p>
<p>"Well, fuck, I've said it now. I might as well say it all. It's— I'd understand if you hate me after this."</p>
<p>The words, laced with self-loathing, are a lifeline to which Sapnap grips in his attempt to understand what Dream means, but he's still sinking. He just has to listen and try to parse out what his lifelong friend is going through before his own emotions boil him alive. So, he listens.</p>
<p>"Of course I want you guys to be happy, I mean, I am glad for you but... I... I'm upset it wasn't me."</p>
<p>Words don't follow for a long minute. An owl bursts from between the lines nearby, probably chasing some rodent that the three men can't see. Dream's confession leaves a lot still up in the air and it makes Sapnap wonder. Who is he jealous of? Whose affection is he chasing? In the market, Dream said he never stopped wanting him despite the fact they haven't kissed or touched in over a year. But he directed his apology to George. He wanted to preserve <i>George's</i> happiness, too.</p>
<p>Usually, Sapnap feels his heart like a torch inside his chest, smoldering and flaring with his feelings. Right now, though, it beats like the wings of a baby bird trying to fly for the first time at the thought that <i>maybe he feels the same as I do.</i> Maybe he wants both of them. It's hope taking root in his heart, new and delicate and so, so breakable.</p>
<p>"...Dream?" his voice scrapes out in just more than a whisper. At his name said so tenderly, he looks up from his lap. "In what way are you jealous? This is very important to me." He says it with all the care and soft intensity he can muster. The thing is, he knows Dream. Inside and out. He knows how hard it is for him to just speak plainly of himself when he's scared of facing rejection. Regardless of it, Sapnap places his trust, fragile as glass, in those loving, selfish, shaky hands.</p>
<p>The blond cringes and takes his time, picking only the ripest words from his mind in a desperate attempt to convey exactly what needs to be said. “I’m jealous of both of you, because— because I could never decide between the two of you, who I wanted more. There isn’t any deciding,” and here he begins to spiral, “but not that it matters anyway, because you got each other first and it’s probably better that way.” He’s so closed in on himself, saying the last phrase with force, like if he said it with enough anger, he would believe it himself and take comfort in that steely sentiment. “I wouldn’t know what to do with me telling you all this, in your position.”</p>
<p>George meets Sapnap’s eyes across Dream’s shuttered body. He’s backlit by the campfire, his nose casting elegant shadows on his cheekbone, but the look in his eyes is obscured by the darkness pooling beneath his brow bone. It makes it so hard to tell what he’s trying to say without words; Sapnap is good at understanding the two’s feelings and thoughts at times, but only from experience and deep attentiveness. Unfortunately, he’s never received any cues from George as to what on Earth he could be thinking about this situation, so he’s left floundering. Through the milky thoughts puddling in his brain, he notes that Dream is still crying and trying so hard to quash his little sobs.</p>
<p>How can he stay silent any longer when the bird in his chest has been set free, soaring and fully-grown?</p>
<p>“Dream. Dream, hey.” At long last, he reaches out to place a hand firmly on his shoulder. He finally looks up to register what’s happening, pulled out of his head. Gods, he wants nothing more than to ask him to take off the mask already— he’s already laid bare before them— but it’s not a good time to ask him to leave his comfort zone, to do something new and vulnerable, when he’s already making so many changes so fast. It would just be cruel, so he says nothing. With his attention, though, he throws caution to the wind. “I can’t speak for George, but… Surely, you know I never stopped wanting you.” He tries to be confident, to be something steady that Dream can lean on, but he’s always been susceptible to a strong wind and his voice flickers to near imperceptibility in the middle of the confession. Shamefully, he looks back up to the oldest and waits for the other shoe to drop.</p>
<p>The tension persists, because all that he says is, “You’re in love with Dream?”</p>
<p>It sends a wicked chill down his spine and the crying man between them fucking flinches like he’s been shot, pulling away from Sapnap’s touch. The fastest way out of this storm is straight through.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I didn’t think I’d have to tell you this soon, but I’d have to tell you, obviously.”</p>
<p>“Well, what am I, then?” There’s hurt in his voice and Sapnap doesn’t blame him for feeling it. Still, amidst all the fear swirling inside him, warmth blooms because he really does love George, he loves the way he speaks straight to the point, the exact opposite of Dream.</p>
<p>“It’s like Dream said. I couldn’t choose if I…” Love is such a strong word. It’s true, but it’s heavy to say. “Like one of you more than the other. I don’t. But I kissed you and asked you because I thought Dream was, well, over me.”</p>
<p>While the brunet presses his lips together and closes his eyes to slowly and analytically take in all of the emotions pouring between them, Sapnap takes up his new job of rubbing large, slow circles into Dream’s back. He can’t hear him crying quite as loudly anymore and he knows he’s pulling himself back together in secret.</p>
<p>Eventually, George states, “Okay. Well, I think I like you both too. This is weird for me and we have a lot to talk about, but… You’re lucky you’re both very charming and kind and good people. And hot, if I’m being honest.” Leave it to him to take the edge off of the moment with something like that.</p>
<p>Gods, his heart has flown the coop. Sapnap feels like he fell off a cliff, plummeting through free fall, only to be caught and carried safely through the heights of living. Maybe he’s being a little dramatic in trying to comprehend what he’s feeling. Before he has to ask if George really means it, if he needs some space, the oldest leans over, knees in pine needles, and wraps his arms around Dream. His fingers reach Sapnap, too, and it feels even better than being the sole object of the man’s attention. </p>
<p>After just weeping through the others’ conversation, Dream finally speaks up, voice hoarse. “George, how can you… love someone whose face you’ve never seen?”</p>
<p>Despite not using the weaker term that he used for himself, George only leans in closer to comfort the taller. “I don’t need to have seen your face to know how I feel about you. I <i>know</i> you. I know your favorite food and how you get when you’re finally actually tired and I know you’re a really gentle and kind person under how intense you are at first glance. I know that you don’t like being seen at any state other than your best, but I know you’ll come around when you’re ready.”</p>
<p>Dream sniffles and pushes George’s head off of his shoulder to look at him as best as he can, at the close angle. Wordlessly, he reaches up to push the painted wood that’s been practically glued to his face for the past year up.</p>
<p>He gets as far as revealing his lips before George’s thin hand grabs his and stops him. “You don’t need to show me your face any time soon. It doesn’t change that I really care about you, so I don’t want you to do anything just because you feel pressured.”</p>
<p>“No, no,” Dream presses. “I could have taken it off any time in the last few months, really. A long time ago, even. I’ve trusted you for so long, George. At this point, you’re right, it kind of means nothing to keep covering my face. I’m not hiding anything from you anymore now.” And like that, George loosens his grip and lets the mask come off. </p>
<p>It is both the parting of the clouds, revealing the mysteries of the universe, and the gentle drop of rain on a day that's been cloudy since the morning. Earth-shattering because of the preamble but in the end, just a minuscule action that makes so little difference. </p>
<p>There's wonder in being the third person here. It's a great honor to be able to watch George's face mold into something so tender, to watch him reach up without thinking and press his always-cold hands to Dream's bare cheeks when he usually keeps his physical affection on such a short leash. He sees Dream again, fully, not as a snippet in between long hours of wearing that mask but as his full self, an angel with a bad tan line on his jaw. Guardians, Sapnap must be the luckiest man alive to witness this moment and know he's a part of it just as much as the other two.</p>
<p>He's still clinging to Dream's shoulder when George's lips meet the blond's. He'd never given himself the luxury of imagining this despite being hopelessly in love with both of them and now that it's in front of his eyes, a book's length from his face, he's stunned like he's going to melt into the ground.</p>
<p>When George pulls away, his dark eyes and pink cheeks speak of bashfulness, but his smirk is that of the cat that got the canary. He locks eyes with Sapnap and laughs in his face. "Pick your jaw up, idiot. It's rude to stare." He doesn't even have the decency to snap out of it or feel offended. It's not a malicious laugh, anyway.</p>
<p>"How could I not?" His throat is dry and the words come out raspy.</p>
<p>At this, Dream looks over his shoulder and his eyes, his lovely green eyes, crinkle with his unabashed smile.</p>
<p>"I almost forgot how pretty you are," he says and weaves his fingers into the autumn-golden hair at the base of his neck. The affection, their touches, it suddenly flows between the three of them like a conduit, carving out a bubble in the foothills where nothing else matters more than the two men in front of him. If he thinks about it, his whole world is contained within the firelight of their camp, everything he'd ever need to be happy, stood bright and orange against the mountainside. </p>
<p>Dream kisses him, too.</p>
<p>Eventually, after they’ve fully relaxed, leaning against one another in the summer night, Sapnap ventures, “So all the annoying flirting was just… because you wanted attention?”</p>
<p>Without the mask on, they can both finally see the embarrassed blush that flocks to Dream’s face and the tips of his ears. “Uh. Yeah, I guess. Please, let’s not talk about it. I am… So sorry, for not just being upfront.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I’ll be sure to tease you for being so dramatic when you’re over it. But because I’m nice, I’ll wait until you’re sure you’re okay,” he offers, mostly joking already.</p>
<p>“I guess that’s fair,” he pouts simply.</p>
<p>George is stricken, with a light smirk gracing his lips. “Wow. We broke Dream. He’s not defending himself against your bullying, Sapnap.”</p>
<p>“I’m right here, still!” He leans his weight more fully into George’s slender shoulder.</p>
<p>“Oh, I’m not going to forget for a long time,” he replies, pressing another kiss into the man’s cheek like a promise.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ravioli made me put in the pickup line at hot glue gun point :]</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Cathedral Windows</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dream finally meets a monster too great for him to best. He's unwilling to let George know, though, until he has no control over the matter. </p>
<p>When they move on, he's a little more okay with feeling small, as long as he's still loved.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The three have been following the path of a river uphill for a few days now, going against the current. It’s been a very soggy few days too, which Dream doesn’t love, but none of them are too fond of it. Sapnap has been complaining for the past few hours, noting how his clothes are soaked all the way down to his underwear, to which George quipped that he could get naked, <i>if he really wanted.</i> Sapnap, for all his boldness, threatened to, but must have chosen not to, considering he’s still fully armored as they walk through the moor.</p>
<p>To give the youngest some deference, it has been an unforgiving landscape and they’re probably going to catch colds or maybe die out here, if Dream wants to be dramatic. Inwardly, he does. Outwardly, he’s leading the charge to what they’ve been told is a forest east of here and making light of the clammy feeling of his skin. For a couple of days, though, it’s been nothing but rolling hills that slowly raise in elevation, coated in bleak green grass that rolls in the wind. The landscape is webbed with creeks and streams in the lower crevasses that are masked by reaching, waving cattails and bouncy rushes. Spring rain has showered them on and off and overfilled the stream banks. Worst, though, is the cutting, constant wind, ruthless with no trees or cliffs or buildings to stop it. It was almost funny when George nearly got blown away with the worst of it. Currently, however, it’s just a persistent breeze that exacerbates the wet chill in their clothes.</p>
<p>As prettily tragic as it would be to die with his boyfriends under the vast grey sky, immediately buried by the heavy grasses, he’s not keen on doing so just yet. Luckily for him, then, the landscape broke this morning. </p>
<p>With the crest of one particularly steep hill, the forest revealed itself in the distance. This discovery has been reinvigorating, though not enough to lift their spirits entirely out of the bog. For this, their trek today has been quiet, but Dream doesn’t particularly mind. The three of them have gotten good at responding to one another’s tides, the pushes and pulls of mood and conversation unique to each individual. It’s like a well-practiced dance, which currently holds them in a silent lull to which no one protests. </p>
<p>Eyes forward, to the promise of the treetops.</p>
<p>By the time the white haze behind the clouds that must be the sun has moved firmly into the western sky, he sees something. </p>
<p>There, in the treeline and on a steep hillside, is a looming, elegant structure, separate from any other sign of civilization, nestled between the giant spruce trees. It’s just a steep-roofed blob, probably of dark grey stone bricks, but to Dream, it looks like salvation. They can absolutely reach it in the next two hours, just over one if they want to hurry.</p>
<p>“Look!” he points. “You see that, right?”</p>
<p>“See what?” George mumbles, but looks up from his feet. Dream watches as he squints and peers into the forest’s edge before his face explodes in a burst of excitement.</p>
<p>“Oh, guardians! Shelter, finally, <i>fuck.</i>” Dream laughs giddily at the oldest’s exasperation and relief. “I know I was making fun of Sapnap for whining but I was starting to think we were going to die out here, after everything.”</p>
<p>Dream doesn’t mention his assent.</p>
<p>Sapnap frowns and throws his arms out in front of him. “All I do is get bullied when I’m right,” he pouts.</p>
<p>The blond places a gloved hand on Sapnap’s back, wishing he could rub soothing circles into his chilled skin, though his armor and pack are in the way. “We’re never going to be ready for your wisdom, just accept it.” As it stands, the hand could be patronizing if it were any other person than one of his two closest companions, but instead it just serves to undercut his sarcasm.</p>
<p>“We should get moving quicker, if you’re up to it,” Dream offers.</p>
<p>Eagerly, Sapnap agrees. “As badly as I want to sit the fuck down? Yes.”</p>
<p>“Sounds perfect to me,” George adds.</p>
<p>Their travel is actually more enlivened after that, now that they have a clear goal ahead of them. The nearer they get to the structure, the more details Dream is able to pick up about it.</p>
<p>The building is just one lone structure, although it borders on monumental in scale. It is indeed made of some dark stone, walls stacked straight up high into the sky where they meet the eaves of a steep roof. Its facade is symmetrical, accented by a large, ornate window directly above the doors and framed by looming, pointed turrets. </p>
<p>An overgrown gravel path cuts up the hillside to the entrance. Without discussion, they follow it.</p>
<p>As they get closer, the architecture becomes more visible, revealing the rough edges of what once was a protruding arch full of carvings that are now just blobs. There is an uncovered stoop of the same stone as the rest of the building in front of the door, with a few wide stairs leading up to it. The doors themselves are made of a dark wood with rusted iron reinforcements across them. They are worn rough and thinner than they once were, but still intact and still forebodingly tall.</p>
<p>Dream doesn’t feel small often, but he’s dwarfed by this door, by the entire building, which stands so strong despite being so lonesome. The sculpted columns framing the door are worn down from the wind and rain into unintelligible humanoid forms, ages-old sentinels whose names and purposes are long forgotten.</p>
<p>He squares his shoulders, intent on looking confident— he is the leader of their group, after all— and pushes on the handle. Despite the decorum of the place, it’s not locked or barricaded. Instead, the rusted latch just suddenly gives, and the heavy hinges groan as the door swings open.</p>
<p>He had been expecting something entirely ransacked and crumbling or secretly harboring life, but the room that greets them is both perfectly in order and clearly abandoned for ages. The dust that covers every surface is thick and undisturbed except for the occasional trail of rodent prints through the grime. It’s dark inside and the grey day outside does little to brighten the space beyond an ambient gloom. Without having to be asked, Sapnap quickly lights a torch and waves it in a slow arc to inspect what’s ahead. </p>
<p>The room is large and rectangular, the ceiling vaulted high above. Rows of wooden benches on risers line either long wall, offering a clear view of the center aisle. A perpendicular path cuts through them in the room’s center, leaving a large square of space in the very center of the room. It’s a shockingly regal room, still dotted with the stubs of half-burnt down candles and sporting a shrine of some kind at the other end. </p>
<p>“What… is this place?” George mumbles.</p>
<p>“No clue,” Dream shrugs. “I’m kind of amazed it’s so well-preserved, but I guess I have no idea how old it is, either.” </p>
<p>“Well it looks like no one has touched it for a hundred years. I mean, this dust is like, four solid inches thick!” It’s an exaggeration maybe, but Sapnap makes a good point. No one in the last town they passed through for directions said anything about a huge dark castle or church of some kind that they might come across heading south.</p>
<p>“It’s weird,” George mentions, slowly creeping into the deep shadows of the walls and benches. “You’d think something like this, completely abandoned, would be totally ransacked and full of animals.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” Dream turns backwards and looks up at the window over the door, which is the only one in the whole room. It’s huge, but doesn’t let in much of the dim light of the foggy day due to the variety of dust-covered stained glass panels that make it up. It’s really a work of art, but his wariness overrides any aesthetic appreciation he may have felt. They closed the front door behind them; as Dream faces back at the entrance, George and Sapnap begin picking their way into the room. </p>
<p>“Oh, weird, look at this,” he hears Sapnap call.</p>
<p>He turns and walks further into the hall to look over Sapnap’s shoulder. All three of them press close to inspect what Sapnap is holding with their weapons drawn and darkness huddling around them. </p>
<p>In his hands is a dust-laden leather journal with candle wax dripped onto the cover in one off-center splat. Upon opening it, the pages are revealed to be filled with handwritten notes in a language Dream’s never seen before. There are no diagrams or signs of even characters that he’s familiar with from their own language to elucidate a single bit of the journal’s contents.</p>
<p>“What even is that language?” George voices for all of them.</p>
<p>Sapnap grunts and shrugs and Dream mutters a sound not unlike, <i>“I don’t know.”</i></p>
<p>He finishes riffling through the pages for something comprehensible with no luck and closes the book with a quiet slap. “Hmm.” The three of them stand in contemplative silence for a moment until Dream’s eyes begin to wander through the room’s interior once more, searching.</p>
<p>“Where’d you pull that from?” he inquires.</p>
<p>“Under the benches. There’s like, a little shelf under them on the back.”</p>
<p>Dream steps away from their huddle in the center of the aisle to inspect. True to Sapnap’s words, there’s a shallow shelf on the underside of all the benches, open to the row behind. Most of them are filled only with dust and cobwebs, but in quite a few slots, there are old books and journals of a similar type to the one they flipped through. Dotting the risers are loose candles, in varying states of being burnt down, with wax dripped straight onto the wood, sticking them in place. </p>
<p>He picks up another one of the journals and flips through it, finding this one filled with messy drawings and diagrams, rather than just endless blocks of indecipherable text. The images are still labeled in that same language, but these give him some more insight into what may have been going on here. At first there are charts that seem to include equations of some kind, considering they are structured differently on the page than the normal writing, and then as he flips further in, hastily-drawn diagrams of mostly geometric shapes. One layout appears often, almost like a base on which the symbols are marked in different arrangements on different pages. Still, it’s incomprehensible. </p>
<p>His nerves at entering this horribly imposing and surprisingly well-preserved building are starting to ebb, however, as he begins to lose himself in thoughts of deciphering what this all means. He loves a good challenge, a puzzle, a mystery. Maybe in uncovering the knowledge stored here, they can also figure out what this place was and why it looks like it was so suddenly abandoned. </p>
<p>When Sapnap calls out, “Hey, I found something else!” he’s sure it’ll only serve to draw him in more. </p>
<p>Practically tripping over himself to come and see, Dream shuts the journal and tucks it under his arm. Sapnap is now in the front of the room, up by a podium, holding something in his hands that isn’t a book. George is leaning over it, eyes wide as saucers.</p>
<p>It’s a hunk of diamond. It’s about palm-sized, flattish, with two perfectly polished and cut faces, the other faces looking as though they were broken from a larger piece by force. Dream can tell easily, it looks a lot like the blade of his own sword, with one important difference.</p>
<p>It’s… iridescent. Not in the way that diamond naturally is, either, with its crystalline structure catching the light and sparkling white and rainbow and blue in little shards of light. No, this piece, its surface glows almost purple, and the color shifts in little pulsing waves depending on how the chunk is shifted, like oil on water.</p>
<p>Dream has never seen anything like it. George, likewise, is agape. “What <i>is</i> it?”</p>
<p>“Diamond,” Dream supplies.</p>
<p>“I can tell that,” his boyfriend mutters back.</p>
<p>Sapnap breaks the silence. “I think it’s enchanted.”</p>
<p>“What? Like <i>enchanted</i> enchanted?” Dream doubts it. “How can you tell?”</p>
<p>“The military museum at home had enchanted stuff in it,” he supplies briefly. “They were all like this, with the shiny shifting purple on the surface.”</p>
<p>George exhales audibly and reaches out to touch. His slender hand, cast in shadow, trembles on its arc towards the diamond and it feels like suspension of time, like Dream is watching through a lens, but in the end, it’s anticlimactic. </p>
<p>“It just feels like any other diamond blade.” George says.</p>
<p>“I mean, yeah, I’ve been holding it,” Sapnap snarks.</p>
<p>“Oh, really?”</p>
<p>“Mmhmm,” Sapnap smirks.</p>
<p>The two stand for a moment, silence between them, until George huffs and grumbles, “I don’t have a comeback for this. Let’s just keep checking to make sure it’s safe in here so we can rest. We can worry about all this enchanted diamond business later.” Supplemental to his words, George entwines one of his hands with one of Dream’s and gives a reassuring squeeze. He knows that Dream is already slipping, drowning in his curiosity and well on his way to floating off like a leaf in the wind. So George is always there to ground him. </p>
<p>It keeps him on track, and he loves George for it.</p>
<p>Aside from the front door that they came through, there are four other exits from this room that lead deeper into the building. There is one on the left and one on the right, at the ends of the bisecting walkway in the room’s middle, and one on either side of the shrine opposite the main entrance.</p>
<p>Sapnap pockets the remnant of the enchanted blade and pulls out his own well-worn shortsword. George is still holding Dream’s hand in his left and a torch in his right, and he leads the way to one of the doors near to the shrine. The decision seems arbitrary, and they don’t discuss it as they forge ahead.</p>
<p>It’s not so much a door as a molded archway that leads into a dark, windowless hallway that runs behind the front room they just came from. The light from George’s torch bursts as strongly as it can into the narrow-walled corridor, which they find empty of any life and uncluttered, aside from huge tapestries, evenly spaced. The other door from the front hall also opens into this hallway, it would seem, and in immediate sight on the other side of the corridor is another set of heavy wooden doors.</p>
<p>“Looks like we’ve got a lot to cover, huh?” Sapnap says, pointing to the turns in the hallway to both their left and right.</p>
<p>They traipse through the moody, chilled corridors, inspecting the poorly-preserved fabric arts on the walls. Some are scenes of monsters and heroes in gold and green robes, others show close ups of different objects and symbols divided neatly in grids. Some of them even feature more of the enchanting language. They look like they convey knowledge, history, folklore, but it’s all lost on Dream. He’s an alien in this place.</p>
<p>It seems the three of them have silently agreed to leave the double doors for later, instead scanning the side halls, which lead to more small rooms on the outer walls. Many of which are empty bedrooms, with crumbling mattresses and dust-laden sheets, all uniform and nearly bare. Aside from the grandeur of the architecture, it seems like this place was not made to be luxurious, and did house a large number of people.</p>
<p>It takes them a good long time to explore both side halls and the upstairs, which is much of the same, along with some open rooms that house tables and chairs and some smaller rooms with curtained light and an enclosed, almost calming atmosphere. It would be welcoming, to just sit on the floor in one of those chambers, close his eyes, and imagine what could have been in that very same spot, if it weren’t caked in dust and the occasional cobweb. </p>
<p>That isn’t even to mention the silence that envelops the building, which seems more and more like a school of some kind, or a religious institution perhaps. The only sounds that Dream can pick up on are the caress of the wind outside against the stone walls and those sounds which come from himself and his boyfriends. It makes it terribly mysterious and admittedly, foreboding.</p>
<p>They’ve circled back to the doors they left behind earlier. They’re fancy, a lot like the main doors, but smaller to better fit the scale of the indoors. The surface is engraved with some imagery similar to that on the tapestries, depicting a group of people all dressed in matching clothes and armor and someone gifting a different-looking character a massive blade. It’s larger than either of the figures themselves, so it must be symbolic, or artistic, or something. Dream doesn’t really get it, but he wonders if the group is the people who lived here once. George takes one of the handles— horizontally oriented and shaped like a lily of the valley— and turns. </p>
<p>Once again, it clicks and swings open with a creak. </p>
<p>The first thing Dream sees is the color. </p>
<p>The room doesn’t have any windows on the walls, but light and color streams inside from the ceiling. The roof is high above, and in the middle of it all is a massive dome. The area where it rises up from the ceiling is pierced with small windows, the glass stained in purple and gold. The dome itself seems to be a masterpiece of metal and glass work, with stone ribs supporting the structure. The designs in the glass are in every color of the rainbow, but the blue stands out the best. </p>
<p>The light from the dome washes the floor in colors rich and colors pastel, casting watercolor shadows between the benches that fill the hall, all of which face forward. The three find themselves at the end of a center aisle directly facing a raised platform drenched in worn gold. </p>
<p>“Woah…” Sapnap breathes. Dream and George are still struck speechless. It’s the most beautiful building Dream’s ever seen. </p>
<p>After a good minute of stricken ogling, George takes a step forward to explore more. </p>
<p>“What is this place?” Dream finally manages.</p>
<p>“It looks like a chapel,” George suggests. “Or at least, it kind of reminds me of my village’s church.”</p>
<p>Sapnap hums and nods. “It’s definitely got the whole ‘holy’ thing going, and I’ve been in a few different religious places, especially in Cerique.”</p>
<p>“So then is this whole building a church… or?” George raises.</p>
<p>“A monastery, probably,” Sapnap says. “It’s got the church, the school, the dormitories. I don’t know what else to call it.”</p>
<p>“That’s… a lot of gold,” Dream points out, reaching towards the altar.</p>
<p>“Oh man, is it ever,” Sapnap agrees. “Do you think we should like, loot it?”</p>
<p>Hastily, George butts in. “No. Nope. Hard no. Normally, I’d be okay with it, but I’m pretty sure this <i>monastery</i> must be cursed or something. I mean, how else would it be completely untouched and yet so unprotected?”</p>
<p>Dream grits his teeth. George has a good point. “I still think we should explore it all.”</p>
<p>“We have come this far,” Sapnap piles on.</p>
<p>“Yeah, yeah, I know. Let’s just get this done and not disturb anything too bad. I want to be able to sleep here for a couple days before the evil spirit in here runs us back out onto the moor.”</p>
<p>There isn’t much else in the chapel worth looking at, aside from the art. The altar and its chairs are heavily gilded, but the shelves hold nothing. On either side of the platform are symmetrical short corridors with matching doors at the ends.</p>
<p>There is however an iron door with a working lever on the left side that Dream opens eagerly when he gets to it. The room inside is small and dark but in its center is one hulking metal <i>something</i>. “Come here, I’m in the little room,” he calls to the others, before walking around the room’s perimeter to try and decipher what’s in here. When George arrives, torch in hand, the orange glow quickly reveals what this space is for. On two sides, the iron structure has grated doors, and it extends into a thick chimney that disappears into the ceiling. It’s a furnace.</p>
<p>“Well, this must be how they heated the place,” Dream notes, obviously, opening one of the doors. Inside is a pile of ash and dust.</p>
<p>“Let me at it. It’s cold,” Sapnap pushes Dream out of the way and begins pulling kindling off of his pack.</p>
<p>Inside the massive iron furnace, Sapnap eagerly lights a fire. Once a spark has lit a small flame within, he begins inspecting the imposing furnace with great enthusiasm.</p>
<p>“This is great,” he says to the room and himself. It’s matter-of-fact, with his hand resting on his chin in thought, and Dream is reminded of how he knows Sapnap’s biggest secret, how he knows the way the massive ironclad pit of ashes must look like a playground for him. No… he doesn’t understand it, and sometimes he worries for Sapnap, but there’s something of a glow in his chest for his boyfriend’s addiction to the flames, just because it’s <i>him.</i></p>
<p>“It’ll probably heat the nearby rooms really well,” George coos. A little smile graces his face, eyes closed, as he imagines sleeping in a warm room rather than on the barely livable moor tonight. </p>
<p>“I’m gonna poke around at this for a minute more, if you want to, you can go look ahead,” the youngest says with his head nearly inside the belly of the furnace.</p>
<p>George frowns. “What if we need you?”</p>
<p>Sapnap leans casually against the side of the furnace and crosses his arms over his chest confidently. “I’ll be right here. Plus, I don’t really think anyone or anything is going to show up at this point. We’ve explored almost the entire thing and there’s been nothing.” </p>
<p>“That’s what worries me, honestly.” George begins to chew on his bottom lip.</p>
<p>“It is weird,” Dream pipes up. “But I’m with Sap. Whatever the cause for this place being abandoned, I don’t think there’s anything here at all right now. Nothing we can’t handle, for sure.”</p>
<p>“Alright, then. But if anything happens and we don’t all die, you’re going to hear it from me,” George says.</p>
<p>"Of course, idiot," Dream smiles. He lets Dream take his hand and pull him towards the back of the room.</p>
<p>“This is the last stop, I think,” George says, pointing to the door behind the furnace. “We’ve gone through the whole rest of the place, and spatially, this should be the last room.”</p>
<p>Dream doesn't reply. He feels excitement— borderline giddiness— rush under his fingertips as he reaches out to pull on the plain handle. </p>
<p>Like all the doors heretofore, it provides no resistance to their entry. </p>
<p>Coming from the dark little furnace room into this one, even compared to the blue brilliance of the chapel, is a bit like looking directly at the sun. The entire monastery has been mostly walled in or lit only with stained glass, but the room they’ve just unveiled is lined with tall, pointed windows of plain glass. There is one stained glass window, once again right across from where they are standing. It’s monumental, just like the dome and the circular window in the front hall, but this one is similar in shape to the smaller windows around the room: rectangular with a pointed arch at the top. Out of all the glass he’s seen today, this is the only one with a broken or cracked pane; one single orange tile in the artwork is shattered and a bird’s nest rests inside the crevice. </p>
<p>There’s a row of white columns in front of them that divides the three doors they could have come through from the rest of the huge room, which is full of bookshelves. </p>
<p>It’s breathtaking.</p>
<p>Dream’s never seen anything like it.</p>
<p>“Holy— Sapnap, this— There’s a library back here!” Dream calls. It feels wrong to be exploring this without the other. </p>
<p>“Hmm?” The youngest pokes his head out from the doorway and squints at the brightness. Dream watches as his eyes adjust to the light and then widen into saucers. “What is with this place and being weirdly beautiful?”</p>
<p>“They must have had a lot of money or prestige,” Dream suggests.</p>
<p>George hums. “You know the carving on the door to the chapel? And all the weapons and kings on the tapestries? And the empty armory upstairs?”</p>
<p>The others nod. </p>
<p>“Considering what we know about them, and the piece of the sword we found earlier… Do you think this could have been the home of the Enchanters?”</p>
<p>Dream’s been thinking it, they probably all have, but to say it aloud? It sounds crazy. “Probably.” He whispers.</p>
<p>Enchanting is an ancient art. Or one old enough and secluded enough that only a select order of people possessed the knowledge of how to do it. The enchanted items that remain are usually in museums, or private collections by the richest people in the cities. It’s illegal to wield an actual enchanted weapon, as they pose too great of a threat to people with regular weapons.</p>
<p>The Enchanters just… disappeared one day. They used to trade with kings and armies, they made men into gods on earth. They kept to themselves and refused to share their gift with the rest of the world, and anyone who dared try to take it by force was ripped apart by the strongest magical forces available to man. </p>
<p>When they left, no one searching for it could find their stronghold. In the legends, it was a walled city, protected by the beasts of the nether, at the very top of a mountain, obscured by the clouds. </p>
<p>The enchanted tools and weapons left became artefacts of the highest price. With no one able to figure out how to create permanent, high-powered enchantments again, people created workarounds. For his birthday a couple years ago, Sapnap paid for Dream’s sword to be enchanted with a fire potion, leaving it gleaming in an orange sheen for a couple of months, until the potion-based spell wore off. Because that’s all people could do now, use potions and simple binding magic to imbue items with a magical power for a short period of time. </p>
<p>It seems that they may have accidentally stumbled upon something much greater than shelter for the night.</p>
<p>As scared as he is underneath it all, Dream is practically vibrating with excitement. George must be at least a little curious, right?</p>
<p>“Can we stay for a little longer?” He asks.</p>
<p>“For more than a couple days, you mean?” Sapnap asks.</p>
<p>“Yeah. I think we should just look around. There’s no <i>guarantee</i> it was the Enchanters who built this place, but look around. This library has to have something that’s worth our time.”</p>
<p>George sighs. “You really think we’ll be able to figure out how to enchant?” He already knows what Dream won’t say out loud.</p>
<p>“I mean, probably. There’s so much here, how could we not?”</p>
<p>Sapnap grins and presses his palm onto Dream’s bicep. “It’s worth a try. If we find anything super valuable and cool other than a new skill that we somehow haven’t found yet, we won’t take it. Promise.” He crosses his heart. </p>
<p>It doesn’t take much to convince George. “Alright. Let’s finish looking around first, and then we can make some plans.”</p>
<p>They do a lap of the library, finding it full of more books than the three could ever hope to comb through in a lifetime and a back wall marked with niches, each with a desk inside. In the back southwest corner, however, they find something more interesting. There’s a long wooden wall with five simple spruce doors punctuating it. The closer they get to it, the more distinct the sound of a soft hum and buzz becomes. It’s almost musical, nearly a full out ghostly harmony. Sapnap is the first to open one of the doors.</p>
<p>The moment it swings open, the hum is so much clearer. </p>
<p>Inside, it’s just a small square room with a low ceiling and an unlit lantern hanging in the middle. Just beneath it is a low square table made of obsidian, draped in a red cloth. It looks as though you’d have to sit cross-legged on the floor to use it, and none of them immediately move to do so to inspect it. On all walls of the room are full bookshelves, as well. </p>
<p>“What do you think this is?” George finally says, befuddled. </p>
<p>Dream leans down to poke at the table. The material is sturdy and shiny beneath the dust, and vibrates just so, like it’s singing to him. “I haven’t got a clue.”</p>
<p>“Do you think,” Sapnap begins, “that well, maybe this is where the things actually <i>get</i> enchanted?”</p>
<p>“Like that’s what the table is for?” Dream asks.</p>
<p>“I mean, it’s just a guess. But we haven’t seen anything else like this. Not even the altar had that like, magical energy.”</p>
<p>George nods. “That would make sense.”</p>
<p>“So it’s an enchanting room?” Dream clarifies.</p>
<p>“Maybe,” is all he gets. “Are all the other doors to the same thing?”</p>
<p>Dream pops out to check. The other four spruce doors reveal similar spaces with walls lined with books and an identical table in the middle. “Yep,” he tells them when he leans against the doorframe once more.</p>
<p>“That’s a lot to think about,” George supplies.</p>
<p>“It is, yeah. But it’s getting dark, do you want to just regroup somewhere and figure this all out over dinner?” Sapnap replies, gently taking George’s hand.</p>
<p>He nods in reply.</p>
<p>“Great. How about the chapel, then? It should be nice and warm now, compared to the rest of this floor, but not as distracting as the library.”</p>
<p>Dream’s eyes are still glued to the books on books on books, but he follows his boyfriends out one of the doors and back into the chapel.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They settle in together that night in the chapel adjoining the library and more importantly, the furnace chamber. They’re laid out across the stone floor on their familiar stack of unfurled bedrolls, now padded with a few probably very valuable tapestries on the bottom layer. </p>
<p>Dream is hunched over one of the strange old books they found, trying his best to make sense of its faded, blocky writing based off of the drawings. Beside him, George is staring up at the intricate dome above them with droopy eyes, just out of Dream’s reach. Sapnap is hanging off of Dream’s shoulders, humming some soft song and playing with his hair. The sensation is a pleasant background noise that melts through his nerves like a hot drink settles into your stomach. His mind is racing with so many questions and the immense prospect of being able to enchant for real. </p>
<p>He’s in the middle of mentally mapping the patterns in the written characters of the language when George speaks up.</p>
<p>“You should get some sleep tonight, Dream,” he murmurs, fuzzy with lethargy. This is George’s way of asking them to go to bed with him along with expressing his ostensible concern. It’s touching, but Dream is just so keyed up that he can’t imagine falling asleep for many more hours, insomnia notwithstanding. </p>
<p>Even though he hasn’t slept more than a few hours in the last two days. </p>
<p>He tells them this as politely as he can string together. </p>
<p>Sapnap stops petting his hair with two hands, moving one around to Dream’s front to slide slowly onto his lower stomach. “I can think of a good way to tire you out,” he purrs right into Dream’s neck. </p>
<p>Despite his hyperfixating, the touch breaks his focus. Still, he tries to keep himself on track. “Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “George is half asleep.”</p>
<p>As though that defense would hold up. </p>
<p>At being mentioned, George perks right up. “I was just thinking.” He rolls onto his side and props his chin in his hand before pulling a smirk and adding, “I’m not really tired enough to sleep yet, either.”</p>
<p>This is a lie. They all know it, and Dream wants to argue, he really does. It will be so rewarding, such a rush, to revive the long lost tradition of enchanting, to hold a <i>real</i> enchanted sword in his hands. </p>
<p>“See? We’re on the same page,” Sapnap coos, gently running his index finger over the edge of the page Dream is currently on. He flips it idly. </p>
<p>“Yeah, maybe you and George are. I just… I want to get a head start on this enchanting stuff. We’ll be so great when it’s all said and done, like, nobody else knows real enchanting.” There’s a gleam in his eyes, unavoidable when he imagines the halo of being powerful protecting him and his boyfriends from criticism and doubt. He wants to be <i>invincible.</i> The promise of greatness sings its siren song in his ear.</p>
<p>George sits up fully and leans in, holy in the dim lantern light. “If that’s what it takes to get your attention, I can tell you all about how hot you’ll look with a legendary enchanted sword when this is all over. But no need to rush into it,” he teases. It’s wry, but probably not an untrue sentiment. When they’re feeling particularly affectionate, George and Sapnap are more than happy to feed his ego. </p>
<p>Sapnap has now taken the heavy volume from his hands, not giving its contents a glance when he says, “You’re so cute when you get all caught up in learning something new.” If it’s possible, he presses himself closer to Dream, ensnaring him in his limbs. “We can show you just how much we love you and your dumb smart brain.”</p>
<p>Dream can’t help but giggle at the contradictory statement but he doesn’t protest. While they’re being silly, he can’t help but be drawn in by the promise of being showered in validation right now, especially for the things he’s already good at. It sings louder than any lonesome siren ever could. </p>
<p>It’s futile to push against George and Sapnap anyway; they’re an unstoppable force when they work together. </p>
<p>“What’s my brain got to do with anything?” he sighs fondly.</p>
<p>Sapnap, who readily says the most flirtatious things, supplies, “Oh, it’s just one part of you that I like, out of many. Don’t worry about it too much.” </p>
<p>Dream rolls his eyes. “Smooth.”</p>
<p>At this, Sapnap unlatches his hold from Dream’s back and rolls him onto his back. He doesn’t have more than a couple seconds to observe the carvings on the dome before Sapnap’s scruffy face hovers above his with an uncontained grin— not that he minds.</p>
<p>“You know I’m no good with words, go a little easy on me,” he whines. “I try to be nice to you and this is the thanks I get? George, Dream is being a bitch— I don’t think we should give him anything after all. I’ve changed my mind.”</p>
<p>Out of the corner of his eye, Dream watches George move across the few feet that separated them to enter his personal space. He presses Sapnap out of Dream’s face by the chin and proceeds to slide onto the blond’s lap.</p>
<p>“That’s fine, Sapnap. It doesn’t change my plans, though.” The youngest is left gaping in offense when George leans down and presses his lips to Dream’s. </p>
<p>The kiss is slow and deep, trailing off into the repeated whisper-soft brush of their mouths. Without pulling away, George breathes, “Dream, you’re—” it’s broken by another kiss— “so talented—”</p>
<p>“—so smart—” He leans back to look down at him. </p>
<p>“And ridiculously, unfairly, good looking.” He then slides a hand into Dream’s still-damp hair and the way his bent fingers tangle into the strands creates a wonderful tension on his scalp.</p>
<p>All he can do is sigh, overwhelmed by the emotions flowering in his chest. Slowly, he finds his voice. “You’re all of those things, too.”</p>
<p>He means it. Lit yellow-white by the lantern and framed by the glorious, rich architecture of the chapel, George looks like an idol. He blushes lightly at the compliment and just comes back down to kiss Dream again. </p>
<p>He didn’t realize his hands had risen to grip George’s thighs until Sapnap’s fingers insistently begin trying to pry his hands away. </p>
<p>“Dream…”</p>
<p>George doesn’t give Dream an opportunity to reply to the other, so he just slips his fingers between Sapnap’s to squeeze his hand gently. At the encouragement, he pulls the collar of Dream’s shirt down and begins pressing kisses to his shoulder, wherever he can reach.</p>
<p>“Oh, Sapnap, you decided to join us again.” George finally acknowledges him.</p>
<p>Stubbornly, he mutters, “You were right. Dream deserves appreciation.” His breath fans out, hot, against Dream’s skin, making him shiver. </p>
<p>“Smart choice. It’s not like you’ll get the chance to touch him so much once he’s up all night in the library for the next week, working harder than both of us combined.” He says it like Dream isn’t there and the words make him squirm. Shame runs through him at his tendency to get so lost in working that his boyfriends feel neglected. They’ve told him lots of times, in so many different tones, that they rarely mind— that when it does bother them, they’ll tell him.</p>
<p>Sapnap <i>has</i> told him so before, and he recalls the way that he felt every possible emotion all at once, blinding like a snowstorm. It eventually settled into a blanket of guilt for not having been enough for his love during that time. </p>
<p>Suddenly, Dream feels too sweaty, and every kiss pressed to his neck is stifling and too wet. He squeezes his eyes shut, hoping the feeling will pass and praying he won’t have to call a stop.</p>
<p>For whatever reason, the onslaught of attention cuts off. George must have noticed the emotion skittering across his skin, because he sits fully up on Dream’s lap and looks plainly down at him. George’s hand is splayed firmly across his chest, resolute, controlling… <i>sincere.</i></p>
<p>“Dream. In all seriousness, I— we really do think you’re amazing. I’m so excited to see what you do with this.” He presses his lips together, gathering the strength to be vulnerable. “I don’t care how long it takes you, or how little attention I may get while enchanting is on your mind. You know we’ll ask if we need anything, or if we miss you.” Dream nods; he does know. “And we trust you to provide the things we ask for. You always do.”</p>
<p>His boyfriend’s dark brown eyes gleam with bare honesty and rich care. “Now, I don’t care either way, but do you want to keep going?”</p>
<p>He’s still filled with self-doubt, but now, he’s craving the validation and comfort of Sapnap and George’s words, of their hands.</p>
<p>He isn’t perfect, but he’s comfortable. He’s sure. “Yes.”</p>
<p>“Good,” the eldest smiles. He brings his thin hands to cup Dream’s jaw tenderly and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re so lovely.”</p>
<p>They continue their gentle intimacy, never getting far between compliments that make Dream’s heart feel so much fuller than it usually does. </p>
<p>“I’ve never seen anyone else who’s able to do the things you can,” George breathes.</p>
<p>“I’ve never stopped being amazed by you,” Sapnap admits.</p>
<p>“So pretty…”</p>
<p>“So smart…”</p>
<p>“So nice to us…”</p>
<p>
  <i>”Dream, Dream, Dream…”</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Gods, you’re perfect.”</p>
<p>“Absolutely perfect.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It's early, like it always is when Dream wakes up. The air on his arms and face is chilly, stagnant and a little damp, and it dawns on him that he's in the old monastery, lying between his boyfriends. </p>
<p>He doesn't feel tired anymore and he always wakes up with or before the dawn, but he knows, as soon as he opens his eyes, that the sunlight through the eastern window is the culprit of waking him today. </p>
<p>The many stained glass installments are no longer quite so ineffectual as they were yesterday. It must be a vibrantly sunny day, because the windows are filtering in massive amounts of light and dappling the floor, the altar, and all the benches in a rainbow of colors. Their makeshift bed is awash in vibrant swaths and when Dream pulls his hand up to block the rays from his eyes, he watches as the skin on his knuckles is cast in a deep blue.</p>
<p>It's peaceful. It's unlike anything he's ever woken up to before. He feels safe and optimistic, to make matters better.</p>
<p>When he expertly extracts himself as quietly and gently as possible from the cuddle pile, he stands to stretch and feels a variety of aches and pains cry out. Some are from sleeping on the stone floor, others from the harrowing journey through miles and miles of hilly nowhere to get here. Some, he knows, are from last night, a low-burning memory dancing in his heart to make him blush.</p>
<p>While he ties on his boots, crouched beside the formidable pile of heavy fabric, George stirs. A few blinding, delicate beams of red and gold light have shifted directly over his boyfriend's closed eyes. The light highlights his few heavenly freckles and the pink in his cheeks and glazes his dark brown eyelashes in sugary silk. It takes his breath away.</p>
<p>"Go back to sleep, George," he whispers and tucks the blanket over his boyfriend's eyes. In barely-awake response, he burrows into the warmth and murmurs an incomprehensible jumble of words. Dream smiles at the sight and follows the lilting energy of the day straight out of the chapel.</p>
<p>It's not a long walk through the hall by the furnace and into the library.</p>
<p>Yesterday, it was heavy with gloom, all washed-out and grey aside from the blue glow that seeped through the cracks in the doors to the enchanting rooms. Today, the dust is all the same as they left it, but the sun beats through the eastern clerestory, haloing the shelves in lovely slices of white light with delicate swirls of green within. The dust in the room shimmers in the air and it feels all the more magical on a bright day than it did before.</p>
<p>The atmosphere only heightens his excitement to get to work and spurs him to immediate action. All thoughts of anything but getting to organizing and reading are pushed out of his head immediately.</p>
<p>By midmorning, he's found the most comfortable and insulated spot in the room— a niche in the south wall, framed by thick stone piers with a mostly empty desk taking up the space. </p>
<p>There are so many shelves of books to go through, he isn't sure where exactly to start. He supposes that somewhere is better than nowhere, that any action is better than none, so he just begins roaming the shelves and plucking every cover that catches his eye.</p>
<p>He has a substantial pile of dusty volumes balanced across his arms when he hears Sapnap and George's voices approaching in the hall. </p>
<p>"...read as it is, I have no clue how I'm going to be any help with this."</p>
<p>"Don't be so pessimistic, Sapnap. It's worth a try, right?"</p>
<p>Sapnap and George's voices float softly through the open door and just barely echo in the stone library to reach Dream's ears. </p>
<p>It doesn’t take them long to come into view; out of the corner of Dream’s eye he can see them walking close together as they talk.</p>
<p>“Good morning, Dream!” Sapnap calls from across the library.</p>
<p>He leans back in his chair and reluctantly twists himself around to look at his boyfriends properly. “‘Morning.”</p>
<p>“What’re you starting with?” George inquires once he’s close enough to press a kiss to the top of Dream’s head.</p>
<p>“In a lot of the books and journals there’s something that seems like a number system, I think, and I’m trying to work it out. It seems easier to translate than the actual words, and maybe it’ll give me some good insight into the other information if I can figure it out.” Dream points to the equations in the journal he picked up yesterday in the front hall. George dutifully looks over it, saying nothing, leaving Dream able to hear the sounds of Sapnap already rooting around in the library for something interesting. He’s humming something in his warm voice, low in his throat.</p>
<p>“Have you made any progress on it?”</p>
<p>“Honestly? Not yet,” Dream admits sheepishly. Desperate to prove his confidence, however, he adds, “I will though. See?” He pulls forward a journal that he’s been writing in and points to a few lists he’s been making in an attempt to match up the foreign number characters on the page to the ones he knows and to keep note of patterns he notices. He’s not sure if that’s the right way to go about something, but really, none of them would know. He has no training in any foreign languages, and definitely not in deciphering completely unknown ones, at that. “Do you want me to explain what I’ve been thinking?”</p>
<p>George nods and comes around to Dream’s side now, instead of leaning over his shoulder. He doesn’t have much, but he discusses what he’s worked out so far, all of which comes with no certainty. It takes some flipping through multiple books and journals to explain where he’s coming from, and George seems to take in as much as he can from Dream’s rapid spiel.</p>
<p>“Mm. Okay. Is there anything in specific you want me to work on?”</p>
<p>“I mean, you can do whatever you want, but I guess I wish I had time to look through all the books and hope that <i>one</i> of them includes something in a language we knew.”</p>
<p>“Yeah. Flipping through a bunch of books sounds, maybe boring, but definitely doable.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Dream says softly.</p>
<p>“Of course. I’ll keep Sapnap in line too,” George giggles.</p>
<p>Dream wonders only briefly if he’s being selfish, keeping the interesting work for himself, but he knows George and Sapnap are less interested in the whole ordeal than he is to begin with, probably because the entire problem seems insurmountable. </p>
<p>Unfortunately, impossible challenges are Dream’s drug, and the very thought of cracking this library’s code draws his eyes back to his notes before he can think of too much else.</p>
<p>Sapnap spends more time inspecting the cubbies with the enchantment tables and finds drawers underneath with tiny crumbs of lapis lazuli, the entire bottoms of the drawers stained with the chalky blue powder. There aren’t any sizeable chunks to be found, though, possibly like how all the weapon racks in the complex are suspiciously empty.</p>
<p>George comes rushing back to Dream after taking another look at the tables and snatches his original journal out from under his left forearm. “Be right back with this!” he apologizes</p>
<p>A minute later, comes, “Dream! Come look at this!”</p>
<p>Dream hurriedly gets up and follows the sound of George’s voice to the middle enchanting room of the five. </p>
<p>“Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Look.” His boyfriend places the journal open on the corner of the table, indicating one of the little diagrams drawn inside. He then points to the face of the table, with its faded red cloth and unchipped obsidian edges. “It’s the same— the symbol is a drawing of the face of the enchanting table.”</p>
<p>This new discovery feels like thunder in that moment. As the day wears on, Dream carries with him the new understanding of the symbol and begins trying to parse it out, even spending some time in the enchanting room until the tables’ incessant humming gets on his nerves. He doesn’t make any other big discoveries, but trying to compare the little shapes placed in the diagrams to the language and numbers leads him down the rabbit hole of the language as a whole again.</p>
<p>George and Sapnap talk and work in other corners of the library, weaving a background track of comfort with the strange hiss, bubble, and thrum of the enchanting tables.</p>
<p>Time slides by without his permission as he fills out a grid to try and make sense of the characters of the language, including how frequently they appear, common repeated patterns of them, and in correlation to what types of images. He's not a scholar and he has no clue how to decipher a foreign, long-dead language, especially when not a single book in the library seems to even include a note in the language he learned as a child.</p>
<p>At some point, the background noise that is Sapnap and George dissipates. Dream thinks he heard them say something to  him about dinner, but he barely registered it. The sun is setting now, though, leading him to light some candles and sink back into his work.</p>
<p>He's incredibly focused, swept away in the fascinating puzzle of the enchantment language, but it doesn't bother him when George ghosts by and stops for a second to gently press his hands into Dream's shoulders, leaning over them to look at what he's working on. He never stays for long, but he's happy to not be alone.</p>
<p>He's thoroughly flipped through three of the books he picked out at random earlier when he hears light footsteps on the stone behind him. He can recognize that gait by sound alone— it's George, and he doesn't bother to check for danger because of it. He trusts George and knows he'd want Dream to keep working. </p>
<p>"Hello," his familiar accented voice alights on Dream's shoulder. Before George touches Dream, he places one of their bowls they travel with, full of hot soup with little in it but herbs and meat, on the sill behind the table Dream's working at. "Don't spill that," he warns.</p>
<p>"Wouldn't dream of it," he mutters gently. It's hard to pull his attention away from his meticulous recording; he doesn't usually enjoy desk work, but every inch of information he looks over hums like the resonance of a perfectly plucked harp string, a golden promise of magic and power unlike anything he's ever wielded before. It's intoxicating. </p>
<p>Still, he knows he's been at this for the whole day and his eyes are tired, so he peels his sticky gaze from the pages before him to look at George. </p>
<p>His boyfriend smiles just a little and leans against the stone table. He doesn’t speak, but Dream can’t help but notice the fond squint of his eyes, the way they crinkle at the corners. “How’s it going?”</p>
<p>“The enchanting stuff?” Obviously, that’s what he’s referring to, Dream puts together belatedly, but he needs a moment to gather his thoughts. He looks down at the books and notes strewn across the desk, at the intriguing little scrap of gleaming diamond that Sapnap found. It all glows a dim purple. </p>
<p>“It’s good, I guess. I’m not making much progress yet, but I just feel like it’ll click at some point. It usually does. I mean, how hard can it be when we’ve got <i>all</i> this information at our disposal? There’s a whole library here and at least one of these books has got to have an easy key to figuring it out.” Dream thinks about his own sword, like a beloved extension of his body, and imagines it radiating the same waves of pearlescent color that the diamond fragment does. </p>
<p>George nods confidently. “If anyone is able to figure it out, it’s you.” He leans down to lightly press his forearm over the back of Dream’s neck and bury his nose briefly in his hair. When he speaks again, it’s not a whisper, but it’s quiet and urging, gentler than the suspension of stars in the sky. “Eat. You need to take care of yourself, too.”</p>
<p>Dream just nods. He’s not good at taking care of himself; he knows it. The bowl is still lovely and warm when he pulls it towards himself between his palms. “Thanks, Georgie.”</p>
<p>George stands up straight. “Do you want me to stay, or leave you in peace?”</p>
<p>He mulls it over for a second. It’s dark, but he’s not tired. He’s not lonely, just ready to keep moving. “You can stay if you want, but I don’t want you to get bored. You can go hang out with Sapnap if you’d like.”</p>
<p>George shrugs. “Doesn’t matter either way. I might fall asleep, though.”</p>
<p>“Go to bed, then,” Dream suggests. “I’m sure Sapnap will be happy to have someone to cuddle.”</p>
<p>George giggles. “He will. He always is.”</p>
<p>They both smile, full of shared joy at the things they share in their lives, at the understanding between them and their hopes for the future.</p>
<p>Dream takes a bite of his soup. “You going, then?”</p>
<p>George nods. “Good night, Dream. You’re staying up, yeah?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.” He doesn’t need to explain. It makes him happy.</p>
<p>“Okay.” </p>
<p>“Love you, George. Tell Sap I do too, if he doesn’t plan to leave the chapel.” </p>
<p>His boyfriend presses a kiss to his temple and slides off into the dark monastery. </p>
<p>The warmth in his body isn’t just from the furnace roaring in the next room, or the candle burning at his table, or the hot food. He keeps going, burns through the night for a lot of things, his love included.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The days pass slow and fast at the same time in the library. At first, Dream sinks into his endeavor bubbling with passion that’s fueled by the muted hum of the enchanting tables. George and Sapnap continue to help in a variety of ways for a couple days as well as continuing to explore the rest of the monastery. After a few cycles of the sun’s light, he hasn’t made any progress, and he hasn’t gone outside of the building since their second day there. It makes him more antsy to move around so little, but the thought of abandoning his quest burns the back of his throat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The library gets quieter and quieter as Sapnap and George quietly give up, in that order. Dream leaves less and less. He feels the distance between himself and his boyfriends vaguely as his brain starts to swallow him with bleary mania. George still brings him dinner every day, sometimes bringing Sapnap along to sit quietly in the background while Dream doesn’t touch his own food until later. </p>
<p>They throw worried glances behind his shoulder and whisper in other rooms about if it’s time to stop after a week, but time wears on.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At some point, the weight of coming up nothing for days on end combined with the grating irritation at staring at the same stupid pages time and time again makes Dream snap.</p>
<p>“Fuck this!” Dream hurls the book, thick with pages and pages of a language he’s spent a week staring at, against the nearest wall. He isn’t any closer to understanding the <i>gibberish</i> that fills those pages than he was at the outset. He feels like a creeper about to explode, full of tension and pressure and <i>hate</i> at how powerless he is right now. </p>
<p>The book hits the stone hard, the pages splaying open and crinkling harshly when the book falls to the floor. <i>Good,</i> he thinks, <i>Stupid thing deserves it.</i></p>
<p>There are a great many people who would abhor him for throwing such an old, powerful book against the wall, but none of those people are around right now and Dream feels justified in chucking the damned thing. </p>
<p>The frustration that had driven him to his outburst drains just as quickly as it flared, leaving him hollow in the middle of the library. He gazes up at his surroundings in defeat. The silent walls give no indication of how they feel about his transgressions and failures, only looming high above and closing him in with their unfeeling weight. </p>
<p>He’s been working tirelessly for so many days and nights to even begin to understand how the ancient monks enchanted weapons and he’s just as pathetically clueless as he was when he began. What’s worse is that George and Sapnap have tired of trying and they’ve wasted over a week because Dream is too stubborn and self-absorbed to call it quits when the time comes. </p>
<p>A piece of him is ready to admit that the time <i>has</i> since come and passed, while a louder piece pushes the notion that with more time and more work, he’ll be able to figure it out. </p>
<p>
  <i>Giving up never yields anything worthwhile. Only failure.</i>
</p>
<p>He wants to succeed for so many reasons, reasons that reach greedy fingers beyond the simple desire to have real enchanted weapons. </p>
<p>There’s a lurch of panic in his stomach when he realizes that giving up would compromise his identity, his character, his sense of self. If he can’t work through any problem and come out holding a trophy, is he even Dream anymore?</p>
<p>A gentle voice in his head insists that he still would be. It sounds a lot like Sapnap, pulled deep from his memories.</p>
<p>He knows that more than his own personal perception of himself is at stake, too. George has never watched him fail at anything before, much less the subsequent flash bang of unraveling that results from messing up. Dream’s made sure of it.</p>
<p>He can’t ever place why, but others seeing him do <i>anything</i> wrong makes his skin crawl, makes him want to hurt. </p>
<p>So, yeah, he’s done a great job of circumventing that feeling by never fucking up in front of George.</p>
<p>He slips to his knees in the middle of the aisle as his thoughts run too fast and heavy to easily support at the same time as he has to support his body. His eyes take in the single yellow ray of light that streams into the library from the broken pane of stained glass, but his head is quickly swamped in the fresh memory of George telling Dream how perfect he is while licking a spot beneath his jaw. The entire memory of their first night in the chapel is poisoned, leaching through his rushing bloodstream and making him feel sick. </p>
<p>If George loves him for his perfectionism, if he was so eager to worship him on the grounds of his many talents, then what would be left of Dream to love when George finds out he isn’t perfect after all?</p>
<p>The prospect of losing George’s love— a love he doesn’t deserve in the first place— rips the air from his lungs.</p>
<p>Tears creep, hot and barely recognizable, down his cheeks and he tries to lose himself in the drifting dust motes that swirl so lazily around him. If he sat there long enough, immobile, would they drift down and cover him unevenly and make him part of this forgotten monument? He can’t help but think that he would fit right in: old and meaningless— once great. </p>
<p>When anger and panic and grief leave him, the light is no longer bright through the crack in the window. When his emotions come to rest, he’s often left feeling hollow.</p>
<p>He can’t get up, not to pick up the book he threw however long ago, not to wipe his tears, not to go find Sapnap in search of comfort. </p>
<p>He wants to do <i>something</i> so bad, but there’s nothing definitive in his bones. It’s much easier to just put it all off. </p>
<p>Dream sits there longer, languishing and feeling his exhaustion catch up to him to drag him into half-sleep. He goes with the willingness of an animal that’s been running for too long— finally too tired of being hunted to keep going.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He’s pulled out of his chilly, uncomfortable half-sleep by the sound of the heavy wooden doors to the library scraping the floor and creaking open on their hinges. Dream’s eyes are so dry, his mouth is dry too; he feels like a pile of ash. </p>
<p>It isn’t until it’s too late, panic violently taking him by the neck, that he realizes why he’s so damned uncomfortable.</p>
<p>He passed out in the library, in the aftermath of his tantrum, after making no effort to cover up what happened.</p>
<p>It’s dark outside now, that much he can tell, and very few lights in the library are on. He himself is blanketed in a thin grey shadow, but when he sits up sharply enough to make his head spin, a soft yellow beam of light from the hallway outside cuts straight across the bridge of his nose. </p>
<p>George sees the highlighted motion and immediately snaps his head to look. His eyes widen in surprise first, then his lips crunch in confusion and concern.</p>
<p>“Dream? What are you doing on the floor there?” </p>
<p>The blood rushes in Dream’s ears. All he can hear in his boyfriend’s voice is the possibility for rejection. What kind of hero crashes in the middle of the stone floor? If he were working, he’d be in the light, probably over in his cozy niche. Embarrassment floods his body.</p>
<p>His lack of response must be more concerning than if he had just been able to pull it together and say <i>anything,</i> because George takes one step further into the library, still holding open the heavy door. His voice is hurried and intense. “Dream? Are you okay?”</p>
<p>All he can think to say is, “Wait.” </p>
<p>He looks away, and wraps his arms tightly around his chest.</p>
<p>“Wait, for-for what?” Worry lances through George’s words, which frightens Dream third most, next to mockery and pity. </p>
<p>The dove from the nest chooses that moment to flutter in and land in its nest. </p>
<p>“Go away. I- I can’t right now,” is all he stammers out. He feels very overwhelmed.</p>
<p>He shrinks violently into himself, digging his nails into his arms. </p>
<p>He can’t look at George. </p>
<p>He can’t stand being seen like this. </p>
<p>He lied and said he was making progress. He said everything was going the way it was supposed to. Now, it’s spilled out of his control, flying from his weak fingers. The security of lying has been wrenched from his grasp and he feels naked in the worst way: unprepared, bare and ready to be ridiculed.</p>
<p>His own roiling shame is amplified by the fear of being found out in a lie. George trusted him to not hide from him, to let him know when something went wrong.</p>
<p>Until now, very little has gone wrong in this sort of way. The chance for failure blessedly passed over him, but at the first chance to fuck things up, that’s exactly what Dream did.</p>
<p>Despite regretting his hiding, all he wants is to return to the safety of that shield. Dream could wait out forever under the rock of ‘soon I’ll get it,’and never be burnt by the light of giving up.</p>
<p>But he can’t crawl back through time, for all that he feels like some awful cockroach that just can’t die.</p>
<p>George loved him.</p>
<p>Now, he knows Dream doesn’t deserve it.</p>
<p>The feeling is suffocating. George has seen him at his lowest and knows now that Dream isn’t the person he made himself out to be.</p>
<p>He’s looking away, away from the door. He’s pressing fervent prayers to the heavens that George won’t ask any more.</p>
<p>A horribly heavy minute of silence looms in the library, strung between them like a funeral garland. Dream hears shuffling, the tentative pang of footsteps, and then another person approaches.</p>
<p>Sapnap whispers when he says it, but the monastery is quiet as the grave, so Dream hears anyway. “Give him a minute. Come on.” It’s so gentle. </p>
<p>It’s so patient.</p>
<p>It’s everything he doesn’t deserve but everything he wants deep in his core.</p>
<p>He cries once more.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Later that night, Sapnap slips into the library silently. Dream isn’t asleep anymore, but he’s not wide awake either. He’s more so feeling carved out and dry, tired but not comfortable enough to sleep. He’s cold, he realizes.</p>
<p>Nobody ever got the book he threw earlier, but he had no shortage of materials in his messy work area that he had returned to after collecting himself from the middle of the library. He’s been staring into the open pages of one of the books, mood oscillating between grief, anger, and vast nothing and running his hands over the pearly surface of an enchanted diamond trowel. His mind went everywhere, even occasionally trying to work again. </p>
<p>There’s a knot in his back from sitting so uncomfortably in one place for so long, but he’s currently struggling to do anything else with his sense of purpose shot.</p>
<p>His boyfriend ambles into the niche where Dream is set up, arms piled high with some of the blankets they’ve been using.</p>
<p>“Hi, Dreamie,” he greets with a little grin.</p>
<p>It’s stupidly charming and fills Dream’s aching heart with hot fondness. He sees this Sapnap layered over countless other Sapnaps from his memories, coming up to be close to Dream with his eager heart so easily visible.</p>
<p>Without either of them saying a thing, Sapnap sets up a little nest of the blankets and settles into it, opening his arms for Dream to crawl under. Of course, he obliges. </p>
<p>The warmth soothes him and brings him back to the golden glow of the lantern, back into his body and his mind.</p>
<p>“How you feelin’?” Sap asks.</p>
<p>“Mmm, better.” There’s more to it, there always is, but his feelings are hard to pin down and the statement isn’t an untruth by any means.</p>
<p>“Cool.” The younger begins running his hands through Dream’s hair and rubbing his shoulders lightly to comfort him.</p>
<p>They sit in silence for some time. Dream knows the opening is for him to talk, but only if he wants to. He’s stubborn and he doesn’t want to, just because it’s too hard to feel his feelings after every tiring second he spent doing so already today.</p>
<p>After some time spent in the cozy quiet of their own little bubble, Sapnap speaks again. “Are you tired?”</p>
<p>“I am now,” Dream rumbles.</p>
<p>He feels Sapnap’s pleased giggle through his back. “Good. You need a good night’s rest.”</p>
<p>His mind drifts through warm thoughts— a miniscule cabin the three of them had stayed in last fall in a village where George cooked stew and squash, summer fireflies that wouldn’t come out in the current cold, the shine in Sapnap’s eyes when he watches the fire, even the smell of a normal library that is just not this one. He’s so achingly fond for both of the two, he can’t imagine losing either of them.</p>
<p>“How’s George?”</p>
<p>Sapnap responds placidly. “He’s okay. I talked to him. Nothing big, don’t worry, but I told him to wait it out until you were ready.”</p>
<p>Dream feels a chill climb up the ladder of his spine and the thought of having to be ready to share what happened. Of course, George deserves to know, he’s realized that and come to terms with it since he’s calmed down, but it’s so frightening.</p>
<p>Sapnap feels the twitch. “You should talk to George,” he urges gently.</p>
<p>Dream sighs heavily. He feels deflated and he slumps even more fully into Sapnap’s chest. “I know. I’m scared to, though.”</p>
<p>“You have nothing to be scared of. He’s not mad at you and you should know that I’m not either.”</p>
<p>Dream is familiar with the implied, <i>We’re worried about you.</i> “I don’t like being worried over, either, Sapnap.”</p>
<p>“I know. But let us take care of you.” He runs his fingers light over Dream’s collarbones while he speaks. “I’m still here after everything, George will be too.”</p>
<p>Dream just nods and presses his chin into his own chest. There’s a pit of thick apprehension in his throat, but he knows there’s no way to deal with this other than to be upfront about it. His pain is confusing and embarrassing, but his faith is in the warm touches, the honest voices of his boyfriends. He’s shaken but far from godless.</p>
<p>He’s already drifting off to sleep again, still beyond tired, when Sapnap asks, “Are you sleeping in here tonight?”</p>
<p>Dream frowns through his drowsiness. “Yeah. I’m… waiting ‘till tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Sounds good, hon’.”</p>
<p>Sapnap doesn’t leave him, not that he knows of. Dream falls asleep feeling like maybe, he’ll have the strength to discuss his most complicated issues with George tomorrow.</p>
<p>Tomorrow, tomorrow...</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tomorrow comes like the steady, inevitable beat of the wind over the moor outside, like the drumbeat of a heart beneath his head. It comes with a gentle kiss to his sweaty hair when Sapnap groans and shifts beneath him.</p>
<p>"Dream," he whispers, urging him up.</p>
<p>He lets out a pitiful little grumble at being woken up but scooches in the direction in which he's being pushed with his eyes barely open. He loses the warmth and soft elevation of Sapnap's chest under his upper body. It's rare that he's tired and clingy in the morning, but yesterday really took it out of him, he supposes, not to mention that it <i>had</i> been too long since he's laid down with either of his boyfriends.</p>
<p>Oh, right.</p>
<p>Yesterday.</p>
<p>That means today… he has to talk to George.</p>
<p>The cloudy cotton of sleep dissipates immediately with the arrival of a yellow wash of anxiety through his body.</p>
<p>"Fuck…" he grumbles and sits up. He's tucked into a nest of blankets and other soft things in his corner of the library with Sapnap, where they went to sleep last night.</p>
<p>A pit of awful guilt sits in his stomach, realizing that they left George alone, and all because Dream was being selfish.</p>
<p>Sapnap, who is usually hesitant to get up, is already beginning to sit up and stretch.</p>
<p>"Good morning, Dream," he says, voice low and endearing. His back pops audibly when he stretches backwards.</p>
<p>"It <i>is</i> morning," Dream mumbles, displeased with the way time has continued its steadfast march towards unsavory moments. </p>
<p>Sapnap reaches over and presses his palm to Dream’s jaw, firm but comforting. “No need to be like that. Everything will be fine.” More gently, he notes, “You can make it through this conversation. You’re plenty strong.”</p>
<p>He doesn’t know what to do with that, not now, and it leaves him blinking like a petulant baby animal, swaddled in blankets and soft grey dawn.</p>
<p>Still, he isn’t one to lie around and pout or put off something frightening, so he pushes out of the makeshift bed and gets up silently. He and Sapnap don’t bother to clean up the area and make it ready again for a day of work. Instead, they quietly drift through the immediate space and try to make themselves slightly more presentable.</p>
<p>When there’s nothing left to do in the library and Dream knows they should go to eat, the two share a mutual stillness. Sapnap is the first to speak. </p>
<p>“Come on.” He places his hands on Dream’s shoulders. He’s never been the best with words, but his hands tell epics. “I feel bad leaving George alone for so long.” Sapnap lets his left hand fall, but trails his right down Dream’s arm and slides their fingers together. They don’t say anything else as the shorter tugs them through the hall to the chapel.</p>
<p>It’s dim in the monastery’s central room when they come in, but Dream can see George’s silhouette, cast in pale greyed-out blue, sitting in the middle of a too-wide pile of blankets. He’s curled over his knees, which are pulled to his chest. When they slip in through the wooden door, he looks right at them.</p>
<p>Despite the cloudy day and lack of torches, Dream can see his eyes. </p>
<p>He doesn’t look angry.</p>
<p>He doesn’t look sad or forsaken…</p>
<p>He looks tired. </p>
<p>Sapnap heads towards him and sits down close to him, but doesn’t reach out to touch. It’s hard to gauge what sort of headspace George is in right now and what he would be receptive to. Dream lingers in the door like a nervous little kid but can hear clearly the words exchanged.</p>
<p>In a soft whisper, Sapnap says, “Sorry for leaving you.”</p>
<p>George doesn’t whisper back, but his voice lacks strength. “You ran it by me before. It’s okay.”</p>
<p>“It’s not, but… It happens.”</p>
<p>George just nods and it barely shakes his head.</p>
<p>“I’ll handle food, okay? Dream and you are gonna talk, so there’s no more secrets.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.”</p>
<p>Over by the door, Dream’s feet feel cold. He isn’t scared, not anymore. There’s nothing to be scared of, is there? Whatever George thinks of him, he already knows, he’s probably already made up his mind, so Dream just has to get through this conversation and see where they land.</p>
<p>Everything is a little bit distant, a little bit numb, but he walks over to the edge of the blankets regardless. He looks down at the toes of his boots, just barely brushing the crimson edge of a tapestry they repurposed. </p>
<p>“Hi, George.” His voice comes out raspy and stuffed with air, rather than whatever his vocal chords usually produce.</p>
<p>“Dream.”</p>
<p>George doesn’t sound cold. He doesn’t sound angry or disappointed or full of dread for this conversation.</p>
<p>He looks up just enough to see his boyfriend, huddled on the floor beside Sapnap. He’s looking up through his dark eyelashes at him, face full of concern. His voice, it was full of concern, too. His own name, said with so much love and patience and care. </p>
<p>That feeling cuts through the fuzzy distance in his heart. </p>
<p>“Do you want to go outside?” George asks.</p>
<p>“Yeah.”</p>
<p>George, still rumpled and soft from bed but not well-rested, not in the way he deserves, gets up. Silently, he puts on boots and does nothing else before starting towards the door. Dream, nervous and fidgety in the hands, follows at his heels. George doesn’t lead him through the lecture hall and out the main doors, instead turning right in the hallway and bringing him to a smaller side door. They’ve been here for over a week and Dream had no clue it was there. It goes to show how pathetically wrapped up he’s been in his own head, locked inside the library for days as some kind of self-punishment. </p>
<p>When George pushes the door open, he steps out and holds it for Dream, who mutters a thanks at the gesture. </p>
<p>The air outside is drastically different from what he’s been breathing for days, which was stale, stagnant, deep and rich. The air in the library was thick with dust and intrigue, but it got heavy so quickly. The air in the monastery has long since lost its adventurous shine and faded into the background of his consciousness until he forgot it was anything at all. This air, though, is fresh and wet. There’s heavy mist swirling in the valleys and between the trees, and it smells like rain.</p>
<p>“There’s a garden out here,” George notes. He doesn’t wait for Dream to follow as he picks down an overgrown path. It barely looks like a garden, but Dream can see where nonnative plants have taken over patches of the hillside and swallowed blobby stone pieces that must have been sculptures or signs. They walk downhill between grass and heather and holly for a minute, following the path where it curves in an oxbow shape and leads to a corroded brass bench. It was obviously covered by the foliage until recently, because the area immediately surrounding it is all pulled up and cleared away, down to Dream’s ankles. </p>
<p>“Did you do this?” he asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows. </p>
<p>“Mhmm,” George nods and sits on the bench. He pats the space beside him gently and Dream follows— of course he follows. </p>
<p>They don’t speak for a long span of seconds.</p>
<p>Dream is still thinking about the air— it’s a welcome distraction from the crawling mass of earthworms in his stomach. Is this what it feels like to be a plant covered in dew? Maybe he’s being steeped in something fresh with the new day, like a baptism that comes without request, given freely to him just for being alive. Just for taking root and trying to <i>grow.</i></p>
<p>It actually gives him the strength to start. “I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“There’s no reason to be sorry, Dream,” he insists automatically. “It’s obvious you’re struggling with something.”</p>
<p>“I mean… It’s normal.” George gives him space, knows Dream well enough to know that he’ll pour himself out once he’s uncorked if given the chance. For as much as he doesn’t want to be a person like that, his feelings flow out of his mouth and into the morning around them. “Normal for me, at least. I know you and Sapnap don’t really, uh, deal with this.”</p>
<p>George sighs and shuts his eyes. The dawn curls her gentle fingers under Dream’s jaw and forces his gaze towards his boyfriend. In the radiant, rosy gold light, he’s stunning.</p>
<p>“Dream… I just want you to be kind to yourself for this. There are things that need to be said, but I’m not mad at you as much as I’m worried about you.”</p>
<p>Now, Dream knows he’s a crier. Despite everything, it’s one thing he’s not really ashamed of. At the best of times, he’s proud to be emotional; it was never something he was taught to see as a weakness. At the worst of times? He’s usually wearing a mask. </p>
<p>Right now, he’s tired and he’s bare, he’s worn down to the bones of his feelings and it’s all a lot to process. He feels warm tears brim in his eyes and he blinks until one falls. <i>Great.</i> It’s going to make it a lot harder to explain himself with his throat closing on his gentle, crying hiccups. </p>
<p>He thinks and thinks on what to say, but nothing right will assemble itself in his head. So he just nods. He’s shit at being genuinely forgiving to himself, but he’s not going to tell George that he doesn’t think he deserves that because it wouldn’t get them anywhere. A good part of him knows that he shouldn’t feel so harshly anyway, so he’s at a mental stalemate. </p>
<p>“Good,” George nods. He takes another deep breath and plaintively asks, “Please, just tell me what’s going on.” It’s uttered like a desperate prayer in a quiet moment, and it steals all of Dream’s attention. </p>
<p>“There’s… I don’t know. There’s a lot that I don’t even understand.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay, please. You don’t have to understand. I just want to know what you know. I…” George said he wasn’t upset, but the way his voice breaks in hurt strikes a horrible note in Dream’s heart.  “I want to be able to be there for you.”</p>
<p>Dream nods sullenly. He tastes tears on his lips. “Um,” he begins. “I just didn’t want you to know that I failed. I can’t- I can’t figure out how to read the language, I have no clue how the enchanting works,” he explains in a meager tremble. The cat is out of the bag and there’s no reason to hide it anymore. He expects George to say something, honestly, although he doesn’t know what. It never comes though, and the other is just looking at him sincerely, waiting for him to go on.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.” His voice gains some strength. “I didn’t want you or Sapnap to know, I don’t know why, I just can’t stand, like, not doing things right and people finding out. It hurts me, or something, to not know how to do everything. It’s dumb.”</p>
<p>“It’s not dumb, Dream. I don’t get it, but… of course I wouldn’t judge you.” Finally, blessedly, George slides his hand over to Dream’s lap and grabs his larger palm, withdrawing his fingers from where they’re picking at the skin around his nails. He entwines their hands and doesn’t complain when Dream continues to tap and squeeze out his nervous energy.</p>
<p>“I— you don’t know that.”</p>
<p>George huffs now, sounding a bit more cross. “I <i>do</i> know, obviously, because I’m not judging you right now.”</p>
<p>“But I’m— I’m nothing like what I try to be. I’m not perfect, or good at everything, like you think I am.” The words are acidic on his tongue, but he knows they’re true.</p>
<p>Sternly, “Dream. Dream, listen to me. I don’t expect you to be perfect, or to know how to do everything. Nobody is able to do everything; we all have stumbling blocks.”</p>
<p>Dream fumbles. He’s transported back to the floor of the library yesterday, filled with grief and drenched in sun, watching George find him there with wide eyes. He remembers the thoughts that overtook him, the memories of every precisely placed kiss and word of alluring praise, a litany of <i>”perfect, perfect, perfect.”</i> His tears rush out in a little wave with the feeling. “You said it all, though. The first night we were here. You told me that you and Sapnap love me so much and then listed all of the things that you find so impressive about me. But I can’t just pick up anything and get it right. Obviously, because I can’t even read a stupid magic book after weeks of nonstop work.”</p>
<p>“Dream, honey—” George rarely uses pet names, and it’s strange on his accent, but Dream likes it anyway— “You don’t have to be perfect. I never thought you were.” He thinks, chews on his cheek while he picks his words. “Yes, we said all those things, pointed out all the crazy stuff that’s so amazing that you can do, but there’s so many things about you that are perfectly normal and honestly unimpressive that I love, too. I love the way you’re rarely still or quiet because it’s charming, I love your laugh, I love the way you baby talk to animals that we don’t have to kill and how you could never to one that you’re going to eat because it gives you a moral dilemma. You’re strange and lovely altogether. No enchantment book is ever going to get in the way of that.”</p>
<p>What George is saying picks at his brain, he knows it will probably seep in slowly, but he flares with disbelief. “I <i>lied</i> to you, George! How can you be okay with that?” He sobs brokenly. He wants to feel retribution for his actions. There’s a hungry fire in his head that feeds off of pain, that cries out for some type of justice, for something that makes sense. All of this forgiveness and gentleness is so confusing, sometimes. “I’m- I’m not really the person you fell in love with.”</p>
<p>George releases Dream’s palm to place both of his clammy and soft hands on either side of Dream’s face, forcefully drawing their eyes to meet. George is frowning, the expression cut into his pretty face, and it makes Dream recoil. He can’t look away, though, he would rather die in the unforgiving moor than disappoint his lover any further.</p>
<p>“You’re not being kind to yourself,” he chides with some frustration. “I still love you. You’re still you, regardless of what things you can and can’t achieve. I mean it.”</p>
<p>“But—”</p>
<p>“Don’t argue with me, <i>please.</i>” George draws his hands down from Dream’s face to his chest and holds them over his heart. “I know what I feel. Yes, maybe I was a little deluded, or a little too in awe of you, but you’re only human. I shouldn’t have ever expected more from you. I was just so amazed by you at every turn. You’re so much more talented, and capable, and hardworking than anyone else I’ve ever met, and it blew me away. But that doesn’t mean that one thing that doesn’t work out invalidates any of the rest of your accomplishments. You’re still amazing.” He pauses. “But… I’d still love you even if you weren’t like that.”</p>
<p>Tenderness, sincerity, words that are nothing but heart and love and acceptance, they always break his floodgates. Dream is reduced to sobs and sniffles. His boyfriends love him, they have for a while now, and they let him know. They never fail to make him feel special. George has never told him this before, though. It’s so rare that he feels appreciated just for being alive. Like he might actually not need to prove himself to deserve love.</p>
<p>Unconditional, like the dew that’s quickly drying as the sun rises. </p>
<p>George scoots closer still, leans in, and reaches up to wrap Dream in as big of a hug as such a small man can. Even being much taller, he sinks into the touch and lets himself fall apart. He surrenders every piece of his self-hatred to the gaping chasm of being known.</p>
<p>They cling together on the garden bench, outside of time, until Dream suddenly feels frigid raindrops break on the back of his neck. </p>
<p>“What?” He opens his eyes in surprise. It hadn’t looked like rain thirty minutes ago; the sky woke up blue and spattered with light grey clouds. </p>
<p>They look up in unison to see the world hazy with a silver sun shower. The rain drops began too suddenly for them to avoid and now Dream is just carried away in surprise and awe. It feels right, to be washed clean like this. </p>
<p>For the first time in days, he laughs. He grips George’s shoulders tightly and giggles, breathless and weak from crying so hard. His boyfriend’s expression shifts from shock and worry to a watery smile. “Guardians, I love you, Dream.” He tangles his fingers together at the nape of Dream’s neck and presses their foreheads together.</p>
<p>“I know. I love you, too. I’m sorry for all of this. You deserved to know, I was just so scared.” They don’t even mind the rain, despite how cold it is. There’s a massive iron furnace inside that Dream is more than happy to sit by and dry off, no longer alone for the first time in days. </p>
<p>“Let us help you if it happens again,” George pleads in a whisper.</p>
<p>“I’ll try. I can’t promise I won’t be nervous anymore, or right away, at least, but I have nothing left to hide, and I mean that. That was… my darkest secret, I guess,” he huffs at the corny wording. “I promise to let you keep learning about me from here on out. I know I promised that before, and I shouldn’t have to hide anything from you. It’s just hard to remind myself that you’ll still love me if I’m not just right.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>George grins at him. “Always. You never have to be ‘just right,’ because being you is enough.”</p>
<p>Warmth, already building inside Dream’s chest, bubbles up and boils over. Through a laugh, “You’re going to make me cry again!”</p>
<p>“It’s okay if you do.” George leans his head on Dream’s shoulder. “Sapnap won’t be able to tell the difference from the raindrops.”</p>
<p>They’re back to normal, and it feels so good, especially now that there’s no wall of awful, incomprehensible feelings between them. Dream rolls his eyes. “He’ll know.”</p>
<p>George gives up his argument quickly. “He will. But he won’t judge you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Dream nods with a distant smile. He stares up at the sky, eyes alighting on the ghost of a rainbow through the sun shower. He doesn’t really want to point it out, so he just takes it in, keeps it close to his heart. “He won’t.”</p>
<p>They rest there for a few more minutes and the rain leaves just as quickly as it came. “Speaking of Sapnap,” George interrupts, “We should probably go back in. He’s helped out so much, I don’t want him to think we abandoned him.”</p>
<p>Dream nods. “If you want to talk about this more, like tonight, with him, that might be good.”</p>
<p>“It’d probably be wise. He already kind of knows your whole situation, though, right?”</p>
<p>Dream walks first through the narrow path this time. “He’s always been able to see right through me.”</p>
<p>“Maybe I can, too, now.”</p>
<p>George’s voice is hyacinth on the breeze, glorious and mesmerizing as the rainbow of light through colored glass, and Dream counts himself lucky to have not one, but two boyfriends who understand him completely and are willing to give him everything he could ever need. “Yeah. I’d like that.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>---</p>
<p> </p>
<p>They leave the next day. There’s nothing left for them in the monastery besides a roof over their heads, now.</p>
<p>They exit through the imposing front doors, which are still the same size, framed by the same eroded sculpture, but they’re less mysterious. It takes some work to pull the right door closed again, though, and Dream’s heart pangs with the strange feeling of being small. </p>
<p>Too small to conquer this building, to even close this door without a little effort. He came in with his diamond sword and left with the same. </p>
<p>There’s a part of his brain that wants to discount the almost two weeks they spent inside as a bust, but he’s not the same person he was when they entered, not exactly. Or rather, he is, he’s just as small and just as fallible, but he’s a little more okay with it.</p>
<p>George slips his hand into Dream’s as they walk down the stairs to continue their southward journey. It speaks so many words, but a lot of them read a lot like <i>”I love you.”</i></p>
<p>He squeezes George’s hand back.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>HOOBOY this took so fucking painfully long... and for what? I just really didn't want to write all of the worldbuilding and exploring stuff, but I hope you guys enjoyed it. I'll probably cry forever if no one has anything nice to say about this, but like, at the same time, I'm happy I wrote it. This one's for all the girlies with rejection sensitive dysphoria who do not or have not, historically, known how to cope with it. I hope you feel uncomfortably recognized &lt;3</p>
<p>Oh also...<br/>tumblr: <a href="https://yarnlegend.tumblr.com">yarnlegend</a><br/>twitter: <a href="https://mobile.twitter.com/sheepedfriend">@sheepedfriend</a></p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I hope you enjoyed! The comments and kudos I got on the first part of the series give me life and make me so excited to write more for the first time in years, so feel free to drop some if you like the work.</p>
<p>And if you want to read a good epic, I'm the beta reader/extreme editor/ideas guy for CrappyRavioli's fic, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27748972/chapters/67921999"> He Who Replaces the Stars</a>, which is the love of my life and a project I'm more attached to than my own writing. Seriously, Rav is such a good writer your eyes will fall out of your skull and I make sure it updates every Friday.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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